


Into the Sky

by 1lostone



Series: Into the Sky [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead (Video Games), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Canonical Character Death, Now not-so-slight canon divergence, Possessive Behavior, Rickyl, Slow Build, The Monroe in this story is NOT a certain well-loved character whose name is Biblical in nature!, elements from comics, i blame jlm for everything, mild D/s themes, please read the warnings, season five, season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 104,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whether by blood or by circumstance, Rick Grimes will do anything to protect his family.</p><p> </p><p>9-12-15 Edits for typos. *cringes in agonized shame*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ THE TAGS**
> 
> Prompt from the kink meme:  [Here](http://twd-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/5396.html?thread=7912724#t7912724)!  
> 
> Quick note: There is canon-typical violence and references/descriptions of rape and assault by/of/to minor characters. The dubcon is due to the prompt. There is no actual noncon/rape in the fic so I did not tag it as such. 
> 
> So my thought process for this fic was literally- ‘Hmm. There are 8 billion days until the rest of Season 5, so let me see if there are a lot of fics. *searches* Nope. Okay, what if I try the kink meme? *searches* WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER.’
> 
> It’s my first fic in this fandom, so feel free to point out any inconsistencies.
> 
> As for plot- I don’t know show/AMC spoilers, but you will be spoiled for many events in the comics. I just don’t know if the show is going to go that route or not. Some details are from the show, some from the comics, and some I just completely make up. If you’re concerned, [ send me an ask](http://1lostone.tumblr.com/) and I’ll tell you exactly what I have planned. This starts season 4 (with mild canon divergence) and will continue on through s5.
> 
> (sorry this an just keeps getting longer but THIS IS IMPORTANT. )
> 
>  **FoxyK** MADE ME A THING!!!! asdkla;ksanADA;LSFKAL;FKA;DF;LASD.  
> 

 

******

"Sanctuary for all. Community for all. Those who arrive, Survive.” Carl tipped back the hat on his head. “Terminus? Well, it’s somewhere to go, I guess.”

 

Rick met Michonne’s eyes briefly over Carl’s head. He could see that she wasn’t about to call this one, clearly more than willing to defer to Rick’s judgment.  

 

Ha. His judgment.  His judgment had Judith dea-- Judith _gone_ , and their group scattered. What the fuck did he know about judgment?

 

“Hnnm,” Rick grunted, rubbing absently at his stomach. They needed a direction to go, and this direction would work as much as any other. They could follow the train tracks and see what this Terminus was. It beat the random, senseless wandering they’d been doing for the past day and a half.

 

Michonne nudged Carl with her shoulder. “You never know.  I found you two, didn’t I?”

 

Rick found himself both bitterly jealous and pathetically grateful for the shy grin that lit up his son’s face in response to Michonne’s teasing.  It was that more than anything else that decided him.  “It’s gonna be dark soon. We need to find somewhere to sleep, and we can head there in the morning.”

 

By now the three of them had a routine.  It was jarring to realize that Carl was part of that routine, instead of someone to be protected. Rick’s brain might scream at him that Carl was only fourteen, but watching the competent way he searched through the trees for walkers, calmly looking for wood for a small fire tugged at Rick’s heartstrings. His son had matured while he wasn’t looking, and Rick would do well to remember that.

 

“You think we should go further back? Away from the tracks a bit?”

 

Rick looked around. The place Carl had found had obviously been used as a makeshift camping spot before. The half-eaten corpse told its own story. Carl had dragged it aside, long past being fazed by the grim sight. There was a natural outcropping of rock that would keep anything from coming at their backs, and enough cleared area for a small fire and space for the three of them to sleep.   

 

“I think we’ll be okay.” He didn’t want to undermine Carl’s work to make camp. Their truce was still so fragile. Rick did not want to go back to how it had been in that house. Carl had been right to blame him for the clusterfuck at the prison, but Rick simply couldn’t handle the idea of his son leaving. He could _not_ lose both of his children. Keeping Carl safe was all that he fucking had.

 

Michonne clearly had her doubts but just shrugged at Rick’s words, willing enough to go along with his decision. They had looted quite a bit from the town before running out of it, and it only took an hour or so to string a alarm around their small camp. They had more than enough food in Carl’s backpack, and Michonne had found a small knapsack that had been overlooked when Carl had dragged the mangled corpse out of their way. In it had been three packets of jerky and a wicked looking hunting knife. Rick didn’t have a pack, and the knapsack reeked of decay, but the knife fit neatly into his belt. He felt better giving his to Carl; it had been one that they had practiced with it in the prison, and Carl was more comfortable with its grip and weight than the heavier hunting knife.

 

The fire was a welcome bit of light. The night was quiet and the three of them ate the cans of creamed corn and creamed spinach in relative comfort.

 

“Ugh, I never was much of a fan of that stuff.” Rick made a face as the bland spinach slid unpleasantly down his throat. “But now, it’s like a four-course meal.”

 

Michonne snorted. Carl was already passed out, snoring softly, curled up on his side, with his face towards Rick.  Rick couldn’t help the way he reached out and gently pushed Carl’s hair out of his face. His son wrinkled his nose in his sleep, then stilled, sleeping soundly.

 

“You two are gonna be okay.” Michonne’s already soft-spoken voice was a bare whisper in the quiet night. “Others had to have gotten out. We’ll find ‘em, Rick.”

 

Rick’s throat tightened. Would they? Beth and Judith? Daryl? Maggie and Glen? Tyreese? He, Carl, and Michonne were still alive, so it stood to reason that at least some of his friends... his _family_... were too. But this new world was rarely that kind.

 

“Hnnm.”

 

“You sure you want to take the first watch?” I don’t mind doin’ it.”

 

“No. You get some sleep.” Rick wanted to get up anyway. Habit had him checking his ammo as he stood, ignoring how loudly his knees cracked.

 

“Okay.” Michonne scrunched down a little with her back on the rock outcropping, folding her hands in her lap and closing her eyes.  He noticed that she sat close enough to Carl so that his shoulder brushed against her leg and was glad for it.  God knew he needed the help. Right now, Rick trusted Michonne’s protective instincts more than his own.  Rick kicked at the fire so that it wouldn’t flare up and walked far enough away from their camp that he could piss without being seen (privacy was in low supply these days and was guarded fiercely when possible), then stood with his back to a tree, looking out into the quiet night.

 

When Lori died, Rick had... well. There wasn’t all that fine a point to put on it. He’d gone a little crazy, seeing her around every corner. Talking to her, and Dale, Jacqui and T-Dogg on that damn phone at all hours of the day and night until Hershel had calmly distracted him enough to take the phone away. Rick had his suspicions that Daryl had had something to do with it, but Daryl had never volunteered the information, and Rick sure as shit wasn’t about to ask.

 

The terrifying thing was that he could feel that madness lingering just there, out of his reach. Like something huddling in the dark abyss, ready to spring out at him if he let his guard down. His daughter. God, Judith. He was certain she was dead, and equally as certain that he couldn’t stop looking for her. Someone could have gotten her out.  Maybe Carl and Michonne were right. Terminus- whatever kind of community that was, had to be fairly large if it was advertised so far away. From the map it looked like there were several tracks that lead to its location, like the legs of a spider.

 

The groan startled Rick out of his thoughts, and his attention sharpened on the lone walker several feet away. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He’d have to lead it a little further away before it tripped over the alarm. The alarm worked two ways: alerting those inside of it of impending walkers, but the noise of it being tripped also rang the dinner bell for any walker within hearing distance.  He looked over at Michonne and Carl, still sleeping in the dimmed light of the fire and made a quick decision. Rick made sure it saw him as he led it away before turning and dispatching it with the new knife, ignoring the hissing and easily dodging the gore-encrusted mouth. There was another one to his left and Rick was able to sneak up behind it with very little trouble, dropping it down onto the ground with a muffled thump of sound. Something had to be nearby, making noise.

 

Later, he was never sure if that walker saved his life or not. If he hadn’t snuck up behind it, he never would have been in the position to see the group of men camped around the dim fire. Instinct had him crouching in the darkness as he took in the situation. There were a lot of them. From where Rick crouched, he could see the perimeter they’d put up.  Three men to his left passed around the blunt, the slightly skunky smell of pot barely drifting towards Rick’s nose, now that he realized what he was seeing.  Six men sat sprawled around a fire, eating and drinking.  

 

Rick’s heart jumped into his throat when he saw what  the four to his right were doing.  From this distance, Rick couldn’t tell if they had a woman or a young man, but the muffled grunts and cries of pain told their own story. The man in the back pulled back with a laugh, picking up his weapon and zipping up in almost the same move. For one second, the flash of blonde hair had Rick’s muscles tensing, stupidly ready to spring forward until he realized that one- the woman was much too old to be Beth, and two, one of the men raping her had slit her throat, ending their sport and her life with one cruel twist of a knife.

 

Rick’s skin crawled, but there was nothing he could do.  He was outnumbered, outgunned--- The snap of a branch sent Rick ducking down lower, belly to the ground. Two men came up from the opposite direction that Rick huddled. The quiet night carried sound very well. “Hey, Joe. We saw a couple of campfires out there.”

 

“I’m sure you did. Dark night like this. Any sign of the cowboy?”

 

Both shook their heads, reaching out and warming their hands by the fire. “Nope. Nothing. Some broad and her kid---”

 

Rick’s heart stopped. Holy fucking _Christ,_ he’d left Michonne and Carl alone!  He used every single iota of skill Daryl had shown him to move silently. He was so focused that he missed the rest of the conversation, and began to move blindly back towards their campsite.  The only reason they hadn’t been discovered had been due to either the outcropping of rock, or the noise of this bigger group, but Rick knew the feeling of his luck about to run out, and he was pretty much there.

 

The sound of him tripping in his haste, stumbling over the cold corpse of the walker he'd just killed sent up the alarm from the men, and Rick knew he had only minutes to get back to the camp and warn the others.

 

He ran as quickly as he could, ducking under the alarm and kicking the fire into smoke so that no illumination would fuck up his plans. Rick crouched and touched Michonne’s shoulder, putting his knee on the katana so that she didn’t slice him in half. One of the unwritten rules was to be careful how you woke someone up out of a dead sleep. Michonne came awake without a sound, instantly tensing into action.

 

“You have to go. There’s a big group coming. Men. Bad news. Get Carl and get him out. I’ll meet you guys up the road a bit, but it might take me awhile to get there. Terminus. Go! Go, they’re almost here!” His hissed whisper was as low as he could make it, speaking almost into Michonne’s ear.  His decision was not really a decision at all; really, the only thing that would keep Carl safe.

 

“Dad?” Carl’s voice sounded very young in the dark night.  Rick shut his eyes at the sound, his heartbeat thundering in his chest. All three of them could hear the men stumbling around in the darkness, still several feet away to the east. The three of them cringed away from the beam of a flashlight, hugging the wall at their back.  They were close. Too fucking close. Rick had time to pull Carl to him in a quick, hard hug, before pushing him towards Michonne. Almost as an afterthought he unbuckled his gun belt and pushed it into Carl’s hands.

 

“Get him out of here, Michonne! Do _not_ let them catch you.”

 

Michonne was up and yanking a protesting Carl behind her, stumbling through the woods in a dead run.  Rick very carefully did not watch the direction that they ran in.  He heard the perimeter  alarm go off and the man caught in it curse. Stall. He had to stall them, give them a  chance to get to safety.  

 

“Who’s there?” He made himself sound spooked. It wasn’t actually that hard. Everything he did now resulted in Michonne and Carl getting another few feet away.  

 

Rick held up his hands, moving from his crouch to his knees as several dark shapes spilled into their campsite. The fire was out, and the moon was behind a cloud, so Rick couldn’t see who he was talking to. He did see the butt of the gun out of the corner of his eye, but barely had time to flinch away before everything went black.

 

****

Rick came to near a fire. His head throbbed like crazy, and his vision was just blurry enough to tell him that he had probably a bit of a concussion.

 

“So, welcome to the land of the living. Dan hit you pretty hard, I guess.” Rick squinted up at the amiable-sounding voice, licking his dry lips. He realized quickly that he could see and looked around with sudden fear. The man speaking was tall, dressed in what looked to be motorcycle leathers. He was older, somewhere in his early 50’s, and had greasy, grey hair that hung into his face and a small goatee.

 

“None of that, now. We’re not gonna hurt ya. Here.” A water bottle was thrust in front of his face, and somewhat bemusedly, Rick realized that he wasn’t tied up. His gaze took in the much larger campsite, the faces looking at him with suspicion and curiosity.  

 

“No?” Rick look pointedly at the blonde woman crumpled to the ground, dead eyes staring up at the sky. Now, Rick could see the hole in her skull. Not too far away was a man also sprawled onto the ground. He had been shot execution-style in sight of the woman, and Rick’s heart twisted, gorge rising. This could have been him, Carl, and Michonne. Jesus fucking Christ.

 

The man speaking smirked. “Naw. Not a strong guy like yourself. Now, you see- we lost one of our own last night. Found him sliced clean in half like a gutted pig.” The man shrugged. Rick fought with everything in his body not to react. And Tony? Tony here got hisself banged up a good one. Damn near took out his eyes with your trap. You can say it’s been a rough few days for our little band of merry men.”

 

He held up his hand to forestall any objection Rick might have made- not that Rick was planning to talk.  

 

“Now, I’m not blamin’ you. It was smart to set a trap for the dead’uns.  Tony was the damn fool that couldn’t find his ass from a hole in the ground. He’s lucky we had the bandages to spare.” The man indicated what had to be Tony sitting against a large rock, his face wrapped in blood-stained cloth, moodily sipping from a bottle of gin. “Well, to tell the truth, now, he’s family. Otherwise, we’d cull him from the herd like any weak link.  We’re strong together, and as it happens, to be travelin’ alone like that you must be doin’, makes you strong too. So. I’m going to make you an offer....”

 

Rick rolled his eyes but allowed a small smile when the man said the rest of the line.

 

“.... that you can’t refuse. Damn, I miss that movie. You’re one of us.” The man sighed.  “We work together to keep the group strong. Rules are simple. You protect us, ‘n’ we’ll protect you. No lyin’, and if you see something that you want, you just have to claim it. Anything else is on you, ‘less it puts the group in danger.”  The man bent down to help Rick up. Rick kept his gaze casual, but saw no sign of Michonne or his son around camp. Rick found himself nodding. His head was throbbing, but he knew that if he stayed with them for awhile, he could keep them from finding Michonne and Carl.

 

And that wasn’t really a decision at all.

 

 

 

TBC-  (sorry Daryl in the next chapter.  I'm writing this as it comes, so you might want to subscribe since I can't say exactly when I'll post!) 


	2. Chapter 2

“I guess you got yourself a deal.” Rick held out his hand.  “Rick.”

 

“Joe.” Joe’s fingers were cool around Rick’s, his handshake firm and confident.  It made Rick’s skin crawl. He’d known men like this before; men who had toed the line of the law while it suited their purposes. He’d spent most of his life putting people like this behind bars. Even a small-town law enforcement saw their fair share of people like this; charismatic leaders with enough psychopathic or sociopathic tendencies to keep them in power. Since the world went to shit, it just seemed like there were more poking their noses up out of the muck.

 

Joe smirked again and surveyed the men around him. “Well?  I think we’ve done our best here. There are adventures to be had, gentlemen. Onward!”

 

Rick was at a loss. Joe spoke like he was narrating a play, but the men in his group scurried to obey, breaking down the camp with practiced efficiency. Rick saw the man introduced as Dan staring balefully at him and turned to calmly make his way to the small log that had served as a bench. Rick helped himself to a rag from his pack and poured the smallest amount of water he could on it, dabbing gingerly at the bruise that had formed. Sure they’d given him one water bottle, but god knew when there’s be water again. He felt mildly guilty taking a quick sip and putting the rest in his backpack.   His head ached horribly, but his mind was whirling.  As of now, they didn’t know of Michonne and Carl. With this many warm bodies, Rick had to assume that someone could track, so it was imperative that Rick keep them away from their former campsite, and the likely huge trail that Michonne and Carl had to had left in their escape.  Michonne wouldn’t have left without her pack, and Carl had his guns and Rick’s, so ...

 

_Please. Please just keep them safe._

 

Rick’s plan was simple: keep the men on a path away from the tracks to Terminus, then get the fuck out of Dodge and find his group again. They could hide or avoid Terminus, depending on what this group chose to do.

 

“Come on y’all motherless bastards. The road awaits!”

 

Rick jumped at the shout and heaved himself painfully to his feet. His vision was just blurry enough that he moved a little delicately, like a man with a particularly vile hangover. They all shuffled into a loose formation, with Rick at the back. Fortunately, the men seemed to have a path in mind already, and set out to it with no encouragement from Rick. That would have looked terribly suspicious, and would have likely resulted in a bullet to his brain. The trouble was that these guys weren’t stupid... or rather, their intelligence was irrelevant since _Joe_ wasn’t stupid. Rick knew that someone in the group had to be watching him, but he was content enough for now. Each step got this group of crazies further and further away from Michonne and Carl.

 

He started off by a younger man, and Rick’s heart almost stopped when he saw that he had a crossbow. A quick glance proved that it wasn’t Daryl’s, but that did nothing to stop Rick’s heart from crashing in his chest.  His first thought- that they had killed Daryl and taken the crossbow- had made Rick want to vomit, and the realization that the crossbow was actually the same make and model but a different color made him stagger with relief. The man kept up an almost nonstop litany of complaints that he hadn’t gotten to enjoy the ‘date’ last night, which caused Rick to grind his teeth together angrily. Two others started chiming in, and Rick sped up his walking so he was no longer by them. At this point, he wasn’t sure whether or not he was feeling nauseous due to the concussion or the way these fuckers kept casually discussing raping the next person they found, like no one would stop them.

 

It sickened Rick to realize that he was no better, that he had done nothing to stop them from hurting that woman from last night. He’d been better armed, and had had more of a chance of surprise. Now, he was just another cog in this malevolent wheel, regardless of any justifications that he made to himself. He had chosen to keep himself and his son safe, instead of helping a stranger. There was no coming back from that. He'd just have to live with his decision.

 

They walked down the paved road fairly quietly, aside from the occasional shout of ‘Claimed!’ that split the quiet morning’s peacefulness. It seemed as though this was one of the rules Joe had alluded to earlier. They had come across a car with three walkers inside, and the men had quickly formed ranks to take out the threat. Rick had found himself  gagging when the smell rolled out of the car, but the rest of the men had all but dived into the trunk with satisfied shouts of ‘Claimed!’ and a triumphant showing of their trophies- some canned goods- to the other men in the group.

 

Joe waited calmly at the side of the road, until the men were ready to move on. Since Rick hadn’t bolted for the car like the rest of them, he and Joe were close enough to talk for the first time in the few hours that Rick had come to.

 

“Guess nothing in there struck your fancy?” Rick’s stomach growled as if in answer and the simple gesture caused both of them to laugh. “You’ll get used to it. You see what you want and you claim it. You best be on your toes if you want to eat.” Joe grinned with a quick flash of teeth, friendly enough. “Once it’s claimed, it’s yours. We don’t take too kindly to thieves, though fair warnin’.”

 

“I’m no thief.”  Rick’s quiet voice left no room for argument. Joe tilted his head to the left, sizing up the way Rick stood there with his shoulders straight, unafraid to look the other man in the eye.

 

“Hmm.” Joe put his fingers to his lips, ready to whistle. “Guess we’ll see about that.” The whistle was piercing and Rick winced, his head feeling like Joe had just shoved the tip of his blade into it.  The whistle echoed through the woods, but all the men stopped as one and formed back into the two loose lines. Now that Rick could see, he counted fifteen men, including both himself and Joe. Every single one of the men had a gun and at least one knife. Even the guy with the crossbow had a Glock shoved into the back of his jeans. They’d formed ranks around the one guy with the bandages on his head.  They began to walk again, quietly except for the occasional murmured conversation.

 

Rick heard a rustle in the bushes to his left and instinct had him reacting before he thought. It was horrifying; the walker was on fire, flesh melting and crackling.  It still moved forward, called to their party either by the whistle or the sound of the men. Rick  whirled, kicking at the walker’s knee with as much force as he could handle, before vertigo sent him staggering. The walker hissed and growled, jaws snapping way too close for comfort. Long practice had Rick dodging out of the way of its hands, jabbing the long, serrated blade of the knife into its eye, twisting so that it reached the brain.  

 

A quick look up saw that two of the men were down, screaming as the burning things gnawed into whatever they could reach. The _snikkt_ of the crossbow bolt hit the man nearest to Rick in the knee and another walker was on him while he was still screaming.  Rick jerked his knife out of its skull and tuned to help, driving it into the feeding walker, and the man it was eating as quickly as he could, killing them both.

 

It was over as quickly as it had begun.  A small herd of walkers. Less than two minutes.Twenty had taken out eight of the men before they managed to organize themselves.  Rick found himself not caring particularly much, especially when “claimed,” “claimed,” “claimed,” “claimed,”echoed through the woods.

 

The survivors took the guns and ammo they needed, rifled through pockets and kicked their fallen to the side of the road, ready to go in ten minutes.

 

Joe looked furiously at the small circle of men that remained. He didn’t say anything, but the way he squinted as he looked over the fallen men, the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes becoming more pronounced spoke volumes.  Len started babbling as soon as Joe’s eyes fell on him. “It was an accident! I was aiming for the roamer! I didn’t mean to--”

 

“We should have a scout.” Rick’s words caused the men to look at him, either shocked that he spoke or shocked that he would interrupt Len. After the farm, Daryl had usually insisted on scouting ahead. He had saved their lives hundreds of times just by seeing the danger before it saw them.

 

“Naw. A scout would get dibs on all the good stuff.” Len’s voice took on an annoying whine.

 

“You just wanna make sure we’re not claiming another piece of ass before you get any.” The guy in the skullcap checked his ammo expertly before shoving his gun into its holster.

 

“Fuck you, Billy.” Len’s voice was just as aggressive as his stance. He took a step towards Billy before Joe intervened.

 

“You two knock it the fuck off. Rick, nice idea but I don’t see how that would help us. Hell, you gave more warning than anything else, and you were attacked from the side.” Joe shrugged. “Lets just get to the town before dark.”

 

“You guys got a place?” Rick chanced a curious question. Surely that wouldn’t seem too far out of character, make them suspicious of him.

 

The fat, sweaty man that Joe had referred to as Dan scoffed. “Naw. We’re lookin’ for some--” He met Joe’s gaze and stopped abruptly.

 

“We are currently tracking a particularly cagey piece of fecal matter. We stay just long enough to resupply ourselves before moving on.”

 

This time when they began walking, Rick couldn’t hang back without being obvious. He found himself walking between Billy and Len. Dan still protected Tony with another guy wearing the same motorcycle leathers as Joe. Rick hadn’t caught his name, and wasn’t in all that much of a rush to do so. He’d been the one who slit the throat of the girl they’d raped, and Rick figured that they didn’t have all that much in common.  God, he couldn’t wait until he could leave. But, it had only been a few hours. Rick wanted to give Michonne and Carl a little more time to hole up somewhere, somewhere safe.

 

He lost track of the time, not that time really meant much in the past couple of years, and was rudely jarred out of his trance-like state of semi-awareness when he heard Joe’s amused drawl.  For a second, Rick thought that he was seeing things. But no. There was no mistaking that jacket or the man that wore it.

 

_Daryl!_

 

“Well what do we have here?” Daryl jumped up, punching Joe in the mouth. Less than a heartbeat later had the rest of them pointing their weapons at Daryl, while Daryl quickly pointed his crossbow at Joe.

 

“Damn it! Hold up- I’m claiming the vest. I like those wings.”

 

“Fuck both of you,  look at that _mouth._ ”

 

Rick could see that Daryl was upset, but his heart was lodged too firmly in his throat for him to begin to puzzle out why. Alive! Daryl was _alive_. A little belatedly, Rick readied his knife, readying it for whatever went down.  Then, what Billy had said registered, and before he even thought about it,  Rick shoved himself forward unthinkingly, closer to Daryl.

 

“ _CLAIMED_!” Rick’s voice wasn’t  loud, but he spoke with such intensity that it cracked in protest.

 

Every single person’s gaze, aside from Daryl and Joe’s swung to meet Rick’s.  

 

Shit. Shitshit _shit._

 

Daryl wasn’t stupid enough to take his eyes off of the threat in front of him, but Rick saw his spine straighten at the sound of Rick’s voice.  

 

Joe cocked his head again.  “Hold up.”

 

Rick felt his adrenaline kick in. “No. No ‘hold up.’ I claimed him.”  

 

Joe ignored him, looking at Daryl thoughtfully. “A bowman. I respect that. See, a man with a rifle, he could have been some kind of photographer or soccer coach back in the day. But a bowman's a bowman through and through. What you got there, I'll be donkey-licked if that don't fire at least 300 feet per second. I've been looking for a weapon like that. Of course, I'd want one with a bit more ammo and minus the oblongata stains.”

 

Oblongata? The word stuck out like a sore thumb. Rick only knew it from reports from the county medical examiner.  Had he been a little less panicked, he would have taken the time to wonder why the hell _this_ guy knew the medical terminology.

 

“You pull that trigger, these boys are gonna drop you several times over. That what you want? Come on, fella, suicide is stupid. Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people? Name's Joe.”

 

“Daryl.”

 

Joe lowered his gun and the rest of the group did the same.  Joe jerked his gaze to Rick’s.  “Interestin’.”

 

“I claimed him. He’s _mine_.”

 

Joe looked from Daryl, to Daryl’s crossbow, and back to Rick.  “Well, I ‘’spect that’s between you two to work out. Seems to me that he might be a little too much for you. My boys over there seem a mite upset.”

 

Rick didn’t miss the way the nameless guy kept his weapon trained on Daryl and it struck Rick that Joe was using Rick as a distraction.

 

Daryl, for his part, remained frozen, face carefully blank.

 

“I don’t give a fuck who is upset. Your rules.”  Rick couldn’t stop thinking about the causal references to raping the next person they saw, or Billy’s comment about Daryl’s mouth.  It was bad enough when they were talking about some random stranger, but the idea of any one of these men touching Daryl filled Rick with a fury so powerful he felt his hand shaking. He stalked over to Daryl and put his hand on the back of his neck, digging his fingers into the muscle there. Rick ignored Daryl’s low, punched-out  gasp of shock, thinking only to show that Daryl was under his protection in a visceral, indisputable way that would be obvious even to these sadistic fuckers.  

 

Daryl had tensed at his touch, every single muscle in his body tightening in shock.

 

“Hmm.” Joe’s flash of teeth did nothing to  dispel the tension that had taken over the small group. “I suppose you’re right. Well, gentlemen. Can’t go changing the rules now.”

 

Rick’s heart continued to hammer in his chest for a few seconds as the other men seemed to take the entire drama in stride, eventually turning and continuing the way they’d started.

 

Daryl’s hissed, “What the _fuck,_ Rick” was barely above a whisper and sent Rick inwardly cringing.

 

“Trust me. Follow my lead; I’ll explain--”

 

“Hey! Brokeback! You two want to hurry the hell up? Daylight’s a wastin’!”

 

Rick turned back to where Joe was watching them with a very careful grin on his face. That grin told Rick that Joe didn’t trust him one bit, which was perfectly fine. Rick didn’t trust _that_ motherfucker any further than he could throw him.

 

Daryl blew out a frustrated breath and swung his crossbow up onto his shoulder. Rick put his knife back in its sheath and took a deep, if shaky breath.

 

“I think you can let go of me now, man.”  Daryl took a step forward, and Rick jerked his hand back with a muttered curse.

 

The trouble was, now that Rick had found Daryl again, he wasn’t entirely certain that he _could_ let him go.

 

TBC! 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Rick had realized pretty early in that Daryl Dixon was going to be a problem.  They hadn’t met under the best circumstances, and Daryl’s face when Rick had told him about what he’d done to Merle had given him nightmares for several weeks. They’d been so different then. Baby-faced and still hopeful that all this... craziness was just a mistake, that someone, somewhere was eventually going to go ‘oh, pardon us,’ and their lives would go back to what they were before.

 

Later, at Hershel's farm, when Andrea had shot Daryl in the ear, Rick had tried not to laugh at Daryl’s panicked, “I was _kid_ ding!” but failed miserably. It was that time that stuck out the most in his memory- mostly because that whole experience to get to the farm had been nothing other than terror. Terror for his group, terror for Sophia, terror when they realized that Daryl had gone off alone like some kind of redneck Luke Skywalker. Laughing like that- even at something as serious as one of their own being shot by one of their own... well. Rick just couldn’t help it.  Daryl had sounded so.. so... _indignant._  It stuck with him.

 

Their interactions together after that had been fairly innocuous, and usually involved Rick making a decision while Daryl followed directions.  It wasn’t until later, when Daryl had put Dale down when Rick had choked that Rick had realized that Daryl was _with them_ , that he was someone Rick could count on.

 

On their trek to the prison, it had been Daryl who had started working with Rick, following him like a shadow. When Rick needed something, Daryl had just been there. He’d made sure there was food for Lori and Carl, risking the wrath of the others by giving Rick’s family the food that should have been divvied up amongst the group.

 

_“Daryl, you can’t keep doin’ that, man. Everyone has to eat.”_

 

Daryl had jerked the crossbow bolt out of the rabbit’s neck. _“Things might be lean, but the day I can’t spare enough for a pregnant lady and a kid’ll be the day they put me in the ground. Now shut the hell up and take it.”_

 

Rick had looked at him helplessly, taking the rabbit Daryl thrust at him on autopilot. _“Yer busy takin’ care of us, Rick. Let someone take care of you.”_ Rick had met Daryl’s blue eyes with his own, unable to say anything else. Daryl had just smirked and wandered away, back into the woods to go hunting again. Subject closed.

 

When a building had to be cleared, Daryl and Rick had worked like some kind of dream. They’d had each other’s back on every kill and in every decision. Even later, when he’d lost Lori, it had been Daryl who’d stepped up and watched out for the group, sliding into the role of leader and protector without complaint.  Rick had been too broken to care, too fucked up to notice until much, much later that Daryl had slid effortlessly into the role as leader and provider, with Glenn at his back.

 

Oh, Rick had not liked that at all. He'd been ashamed of feeling like someone else was playing with his toys, and yeah. He wasn't proud of it. Glenn was a great guy, but no. That's when Rick had began to struggle to come back to something like himself. There had been a lot of good in the prison. He’d really believed that this was their chance to start something fresh, something hopeful.

 

It had _hurt_ when he realized that everyone was lost to him. Still reeling from that one-eyed fucker’s return, heartsick over Hershel’s death, seeing Judith’s carrier all bloody- it had been hard to continue, to not just give up and go back to that much more painless place where Lori waited. He’d been hurt pretty bad, and Carl had been so mad... well, it wasn’t until Rick had looked at his son, stomping ahead of him as they’d gone from the prison that he remembered Daryl giving up his food to keep him alive, and Jesus God  the _shame_ of it.

 

It still made him want to cringe.

 

Now, walking in the middle of Joe’s group, Daryl kept sneaking little, nervous looks out of the corner of his eye at him.  Rick pretended not to notice, but the fact of the matter was, he was practically counting every single breath the other man took. He was desperate to get him alone, to talk to him, hell, to just hear Daryl’s voice. It was bizarre to feel so euphoric and so nervous at the same time.

 

Rick’s mind whirled like a hamster in a wheel. Now that Daryl was here with him, they could take some of them out and go off on their own. It would be a bit tricky with only Rick’s knife and Daryl’s two crossbow bolts, but it could be done. Only... he wasn’t at his best. His head was throbbing now, his vision occasionally doubling up. He’d not had any natural sleep in two days, and that, too was taking its toll on him. He just couldn’t take the risk of letting Daryl down at some crucial moment.

 

About three hours later, Joe called for a break. Rick figured that it was only about four in the afternoon, but the creek they’d found was too good of a find to pass up. Rick vaguely remembered that they’d changed direction once, but had been much too preoccupied to notice where.

 

“Len! Harley! Why don’t you two come sit with me n’ Tony for a spell. See if he can handle taking these bandages off. I suggest you gentlemen make yourself comfortable. Looks to be a good place to stop for the night.”  

 

Daryl scooped up some rocks and threw them at the water. It wasn’t the first time they’d stopped at an idyllic-looking site, only to realize that dead bodies don’t need air, and can survive just fine under water. Come to think of it, since then, Carol hadn’t stuck a toe in a creek unless it was shallow enough to see in every direction- up, down and sideways.

 

Aw, shit. Carol. Rick sucked in a shocked breath when he realized that _Daryl couldn’t possibly know what he’d done_. To Carol. Daryl’s _friend._  Guilt gnawed at him. At the time his decision had seemed right, but now.... would he have done anything less?  No. No, he couldn’t feel guilty about that. He’d done what he’d done to save the group, and he couldn’t take it back now.

 

Seeing that no walkers jumped from the underbrush, Daryl quickly scooped up some water, ready to drink it.

 

“No.” Rick’s blurted word caused Daryl to stop and look up at him through his bangs. Daryl raised an eyebrow and let the water trickle through his fingers. “Best boil it first. Here.” Rick dug in his pack and handed Daryl the water bottle. “No pack?”

 

“Naw. Had to leave in a hurry.”  Something flashed in Daryl’s eyes and Rick crouched by him near the riverbank, deliberately making a lot of noise as he washed out his filthy rag.

 

“You good?”

 

“Been better.”

 

Rick chanced a quick glance up at the three men, watching as they carefully unwrapped the bandages. He started talking quickly, almost too soft to be heard. Daryl had to lean in a little to understand him.  “Got out with Carl, Michonne found us later. There was--”

 

Dan’s hand descended out of nowhere, brushing against the back of Daryl’s neck.  Rick had no clue how the large man had managed to sneak up on the both of them. Daryl had been focused on listening, and Rick had been focused on talking. Still, when Rick’s hand shot out, twisting the man’s wrist, Daryl jumped, flinching away from the sudden movement as though expecting a blow.  Dan screamed as Rick jerked, stopping just short of breaking his wrist.  In less than a heartbeat, Rick’s knife was against his carotid, glinting in the sun.

 

“Back. The fuck. Off.”

 

He stood up, physically using his slighter body to push the bigger man away from Daryl until he was off balance. Rick let go, and Dan fell on his ass on the wet riverbank with a meaty _splat._

 

“Dan.” Joe’s voice was amused, but there was an undercurrent of something darker in the single word.

 

“I was just--!” It was hard to put his knife away, but Rick knew that if he didn’t, things could escalate beyond where he could control the situation. He whirled instead and grabbed Daryl again on the back of the neck, pulling him up.

 

“Get your shit and come on.” Rick ignored Daryl’s startled blink and pushed him roughly ahead of him, walking so that they were a few feet down the riverbank.

 

“I would hate for you to get lost, now.”

 

Rick ignored Joe’s amused voice, pushing at Daryl’s shoulder for him to move faster.  He had no fucking idea what he was doing, and even less of a fucking explanation of why Daryl was going along with it, but the end result left them within eyesight of Joe’s band of merry men, but out of hearing distance.

 

“Never expected t’be some damn damsel in distress.”  Daryl turned, standing so he was facing Rick, his head tilted down, but peeking up at him through his bangs with a strange, tiny smile on his face.

 

“I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

 

“Yeah, well, you never much struck me as the dominant type. But here I am... “claimed.””

 

The air quotes were audible and Rick found himself standing there a little stupidly, cheeks burning with color.  “These guys, they uh. They’ll stick a knife in your back for arguin’, but have this thing. If it’s claimed, then it’s yours and no one can take it.”

 

“Ah. So this is you.... what. Protectin’ my virtue?”

 

“Something like that.” Rick had to blink a few times before his eyesight went back to normal.  He picked up a tree branch and made enough noise in the water, feeling a little ridiculous, but nothing jumped out at him, so he figured he was safe enough. Rick didn’t have another pair of jeans, but he did have socks and a tshirt, and since the water was safe, the idea of getting clean appealed. Mostly he wanted to soak his head in the cool water.

 

“I’m gonna clean up.”

 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do, hold your dick?”

 

Rick gave him a withering look and stripped off his tshirt. “Naw. I got that just fine. I’d appreciate it if you kept them from knifing me in the back though.”  He bent over into his pack and tossed one of the packs of jerky he’d taken off the dead camper to Daryl. His soap was in the very bottom of the pack. Rick took off his knife sheath and put it on top of his pack, then  bent to kick off his boots and peel his feet out of his socks.

 

“You gonna tell me what happened when you got out?”  Rick unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, dropping them to the ground, and turning naked to the water. He crouched again to pick up his soap and walked in, hissing a little at the feel of the cold water on his overheated skin. He didn’t want to linger here, so he soaped up quickly, ducking so that he was on his knees in the water.  He could see Joe and Tony arguing about something, but Len and Billy were watching Rick in the water. It was a little amusing that Daryl had turned away as soon as he’d dropped his jeans, but Rick figured that after the awkwardness of the past few hours, Daryl probably had no interest in looking at him any more than he had to.  Rick hadn’t bathed since before, at the prison, and his cold impromptu bath felt much better than it probably should.  Rick ducked so that he was under water, coming up quickly  and soaping up his hair, then ducking again to rinse it out. He stood up, hand going immediately to his head.

 

“Shiiiiit.” Rick opened his eyes, wincing at the feel of the soap on his head wound.  Daryl’s body was still turned away from him, but his sharp gaze flicked from Rick’s head, to his chest, to lower before jerking back up to Rick’s face.

 

“You’re pretty banged up.”

 

Rick looked down at himself, noting the healing greenish and yellow bruises that the Governor had given him when Rick had tackled him, to the healing gunshot wound in his thigh. It still didn’t look infected, and it hardly stung anymore. It looked horrible though, and would scar something awful.  He’d been damn lucky that the bullet had gone right through the meat of his thigh, instead of clipping an artery.

 

“Yeah. They gave me this.” Rick indicated the group with his chin, and pointed to where he’d taken a rifle butt to the head.

 

“Umhmm.” Daryl just nodded, and turned so he was looking towards Joe again.

 

Rick got out of the water and sluiced what water he could off of himself. He went for his jeans, and pulled them up, shaking his head to get the water off. A wave of vertigo hit him and Rick felt his stomach churn.

 

“Aw, fuck.”  Rick’s hand curled over his head wound protectively. Daryl was beside him in a second, trying to pull his hand away. “Must’ve soaked the scab. Shit, that hurts.”  Daryl none-too-gently pushed him down onto the log near his clothes, carefully making sure that Rick made it to his destination, then knelt in front of him.  Rick was horribly aware of his wet body and his nakedness. His jeans were up over his ass, but not even zipped.  Before all this, he never would have noticed, or cared about Daryl’s proximity, worried more about the head wound.  Now though---. _Shit._  Rick cast around for something to distract him, wholly uncomfortable with where his mind was going.

 

The first thing Rick grabbed was his rolled up socks, but he pressed them to his head, biting his lip at the feel of the cotton against his bleeding wound. “I’m fine. Just a bit of a concussion.”

 

Daryl looked up at him, furious. “ A ‘ _bit_ ’ of a concussion?” He repeated, looking back up over Rick’s shoulder at the others.  Rick set his hand on Daryl’s bicep, feeling the tensed muscle relax under his touch. “Yeah, I thought about that. But I’m not at 100%. Carl’s got my gun, and they’re too heavily armed. We just gotta... deal. For a bit.”

 

Daryl batted his hands out of the way, holding the socks to Rick’s head and applying pressure with gentle force.  “Here. I got that. You... get uh. Situated.”

 

Rick snorted and zipped up his jeans. “Shit. This means that I’m gonna have to put on dirty socks.” Rick looked mournfully down at his bare toes. “I hate dirty socks.”

 

Daryl rolled his eyes. Rick relieved him of his Florence Nightingale duties and Daryl looked down at his filthy clothes. “Better take advantage of the water while I got it.”

 

Rick didn’t have much to say to that.  “I’m not much protection right now. Give me my knife, at least.” Daryl did and Rick felt much better with it back in its place on his hip.  “Best wash quickly. I have a feelin’ that we’re not gonna like what they’ve been discussin’. Ain’t seen nothing yet that kept their interest that long.” He kept his voice low, wanting to make sure their voices didn’t carry.

 

Daryl must have been thinking the same thing, because instead of grabbing the soap (and rather bravely, Rick thought)  he handed Rick his filthy socks. “We could just go, Rick. Just take off now and take our damn chances.”

 

Rick blinked, then gave Daryl a wry smile. “Not sure that I can do much runnin’, right now.” Daryl turned to reach for Rick’s boots. “Head’s poundin’ and dizzy as hell. But...” Rick trailed off, then made himself say it. “You can go. Get outta here. Meet up with--”

 

Daryl whirled on him, his temper from before back in full force. He brought himself to his full height. “What the fuck, man? I _ain’t_ leavin’ you.”

 

Rick stood up shakily, ignoring the way everything tilted to his left to glare back. “I’m fucked. You can get out. Find Ca--”

 

“Hit me.”

 

Rick blinked at him, shocked into silence.

 

“Swing at me. Fuckin’ do it. _Rick_!” Daryl’s whispered hiss galvanized him into action. Rick swung before he processed it. He couldn’t bring himself to close his fist, instead backhanding Daryl across his cheekbone. Daryl staggered back and for the first time, Rick heard the _chk-chk_ \- of a gun being cocked, and froze for a heartbeat before remembering that they were putting on a farce, and he had a role to play.

 

“You want another? Then you best be getting on with it.”

 

“Now, now, gentlemen. Time for all of that later. Turns out we got us a bit of business to discuss.”

 

TBC

... eek. Bit of a cliffhanger, sorry.  It will earn its rating in the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Some rather skeezy voyeurism and the before-mentioned (sort of) dubcon.

______________

 

 _Fuck_! Rick forced himself not to react to Joe’s words. _He told you to hit him. It’s okay._  “Can’t imagine that we have much business to discuss.” He reached out and hitched up his jeans a little higher on his hips, as though they were still unzipped, knowing what that had to look like.

 

“No, I think that we do. You see, Rick, I think that you mighta glossed over a couple of our little group's bylaws.”

  
Daryl’s eyes met Rick’s briefly, before looking back down. Rick had only a heartbeat to feel apprehensive before he turned to face Joe.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“See here the problem is, that if you claim something, you gotta be willin’ to use it.”

 

“You think I’m not?”  The words fell out of Rick’s mouth before he could think of the implications of saying them.

 

“Naw. I think you’re tryin’ to save your friend.”

 

Rick blinked, scratching at his beard. “Is that so?”

 

“We ain’t friends.” Daryl spoke up for the first time.

 

Joe looked at Daryl for a few minutes. Daryl still kept his gaze turned down. The streak of submissive obedience was jarring in its incongruity.  Rick tried to tell himself that Daryl was just playing the same game he was, but hearing those words from Daryl’s mouth still made his stomach knot.  Rick was finding it more and more difficult to ignore his injury. The dizziness seemed worse now that his adrenaline was up. He tried, but the worried glances Daryl continued to shoot at him from under his eyelashes spoke volumes.

 

“Hm. I guess that remains to be seen. Y’all best come on over. Daryl, you gonna use that ‘bow or not? Sure would enjoy some fresh meat.” Joe looked up at the sky. “You got about an hour and a half ‘til it gets dark.” The group turned as one, waiting almost patiently for Daryl to scoop up his crossbow and Rick to get his belongings. Rick wanted to go hunting with Daryl, but was afraid that insisting would tip things out of sync. Daryl shot him one telling glance, then nodded and disappeared into the woods. There was a weird undercurrent to everything, as though leading up to something, and it made Rick even more uncomfortable.

 

Time without Daryl seemed to pass incredibly slowly. The other men ignored him, aside from shooting Rick an occasional smug glance. A little belatedly, Rick took a few minutes to redress himself, feeling weirdly exposed in front of the men around the fire.  He’d kicked over a fairly large log and moved it so that he could sit with his back to a tree. It was comfortable, considering. Rick sipped his water and waited, watching the men coming and going from the camp. Len and Harley were washing at the creek, while Billy was doing something convoluted to his weapons. Joe sat reading a book, but Rick had the feeling that he knew exactly what was going on in his little camp.

 

The weird little power play between Rick and Daryl, and Rick and the men in Joe’s group had gotten out of hand.  Joe seemed to know that Rick and Daryl knew each other. Rick didn’t think that was all that big of a deal. Worst case, they knew they’d been in a group together before. That didn’t mean that they knew about Carl, or Michonne. That was his main objective here, and as long as they were non-existent on their radar, it would be fine.

 

Daryl had lied about him though; had said that they weren’t friends. Rick grunted, a little disgusted with himself that he kept repeating Daryl’s words in his mind. He felt like he was in middle school, and Daryl had denied him a spot at the lunch table, which was absolutely ridiculous. Daryl was just trying to make it seem like there was some distance between the two of them. 

 

There was no accurate way to tell time, but the sun was well on its way to setting when Daryl returned. He had two squirrels and was just turning to Rick with the beginnings of a shy grin that Rick remembered from before, when Len and Harley’s voices rang out together.

 

“ _Claimed_!”  

 

Daryl looked absolutely furious when Len came over, making a kissy face and snatching the squirrels out of Daryl’s hand, tossing the smaller one to Harley. Rick shook his head once, as unobtrusively as possible, when Daryl met his gaze and the other man threw himself down, cleaning the blood and dirt off of his two bolts, every line of his body tight with anger.

  
Rick started to say something to calm him down, but before he could, Joe shut his book and ordered that the camp be set up for the night.

 

The work of getting the campsite walker-ready took several minutes. Joe kept Rick and Daryl apart, having them both work back towards the middle from opposite ends. They strung two lines, (they’d learned the hard way that the crawlers could be fucking assholes when they came out of nowhere in the middle of the night) one at ankle height, and one at shoulder height. The cans attached were wired with enough slack that something would have to cross over them really set them off.

 

Rick was tying the wire to the tree when he heard a commotion to his left. He turned just in time to see Daryl holding Len’s shirt, balled up in his fist. Daryl pushed Len away, who staggered a little, caught his balance and smirked unrepentantly over at Rick.

 

Before he could go over to investigate, Joe slid his arm around Rick’s shoulders. Rick had done the same thing before with suspects that he didn’t trust. It was a distraction tactic; forcing closeness that seemed harmless, yet putting the person close to you in a vulnerable position.  Rick tensed so abruptly that his headache flared again, throbbing behind his eyelids.  

 

Joe’s voice was low enough that Rick didn’t think anyone else could hear it. “Here’s the thing. I get that you want to protect your friend. No, don’t argue. It was pretty obvious that you two knew each other from the way you’ve been actin’. And in any other situation, it might’ve been heartwarming to see. But you gotta realize, Rick, that my position here is a precarious one. My men respect me for the moment, which means that I--” Joe wrinkled his nose, waving his hand around for a moment, while he looked for the words he wanted to say. “--overlook some of the less-charming aspects of human nature in which they might indulge. To tell the truth, I’ve been known to indulge myself.” Joe’s grin flashed, the teeth white in the dusk of the evening.

  
Rick’s eyes narrowed. He wanted to stab the sonuvabitch in the throat and watch him die. Helpless rage made his hands shake as Joe kept him in place, while both Billy and Len continued to brush up against Daryl, touching him unnecessarily as he worked; throwing him off just enough that Rick could see Daryl was getting pissed. Daryl kept darting his gaze all around, like he was ready to bolt.

 

Or looking for rescue.

 

Joe sucked his teeth, watching Rick watch Daryl. “Jest keep in mind that this little status quo you’ve got goin’ for you ain’t gonna stay that way for long.”

 

Harley and Billy left to go get enough water to boil, while Tony set up a cookfire. Neither Rick nor Daryl had any canned food to cook, so they moved to sit together, close enough to press against one another at shoulder and hip. Rick ate a few pieces of jerky, before he had to stop, afraid that he’d puke it up. Sipping water seemed to make his stomach settle down enough that Rick could ignore his headache. It was the same bottle he’d had since dawn, and when it ran out, Daryl was up and getting him some more before Rick could say anything.

 

Rick shot a glance from under his eyelashes at Joe, who was listening to something Tony whispered intently in his ear. The older man jerked away in frustration. “Alright! I heard you, now that’s enough. I’ll take it under advisement. Add it to the list as it were. Right now, our priority is the bitch that slit Mike like a stuck pig. You remember her? The other one can wait. He’s...” Joe’s chuckle was dry. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

 

Rick felt his heart absolutely stop. His vision actually greyed out in his shock. When they said it this morning, Rick had been so careful not to react.  Michonne had gotten Carl out, and had gone through the men tramping around in the woods to do so. Michonne used that katana as an extension of her arm, and very few people who came in contact with the wicked sharpness of its blade had much to say about it after.  

 

Maybe that’s why he didn’t notice at first.  It seemed only moments before Daryl was surrounded.  One blink had Len wrapping his arm around Daryl’s neck, kicking the back of his knee so he went down on all fours. The next had Len’s knife to Daryl’s throat.  He paused, looking over at Joe for instruction.

 

Daryl, for his part, didn’t react other than to glare. Things were too on edge; one move would leave him with his throat slit.

 

“See Rick? I told ya. If you don’t play with your toys, someone else will. You claimed him but--”

 

“Get the fuck off him.” Rick snarled. He was up and moving before Joe finished his taunt. “You said anything claimed belonged to the claimer. That’s _me_.”

 

“You haven’t claimed shit! I say we just tie him up and share him.” Len’s smile flashed briefly in the darkness.

 

Harley snorted. He raised his gun, pointing it at Rick’s head.  “Naw. Just kill this one and no more claim.”

 

Len bent down over Daryl and whispered something in his ear. Even with just the fire, Rick could see that whatever he said made Daryl’s face pale.

 

Rick saw red.

 

He threw the knife, almost without thinking. It landed in the meat on the back of Len’s hand and he jerked back from Daryl with a scream. Rick stalked over and yanked his knife back, pushing Daryl’s shoulder with his boot.  “Get up.” Len scrambled back towards the fire, wrapping a filthy-looking rag around his wound.

 

Rick cast about the fire with his knife held firmly in his hand, still dripping blood, stymied. He had to ‘claim’ Daryl, to dominate him in such a way that no one would doubt that Daryl was his. Rick took a step back, then another, until his back came up against the bark of a tree.

 

“C’mere.” Rick kept his voice low, but purposeful, as though he had no doubt that Daryl would do as commanded. Daryl looked once at where Joe, Harley and Len sat, staring at them.  Dan and Billy were frozen  with their forks in the air, surprised at the way things had just played out, still sharing a can of something.

 

The fire was at Daryl’s back as he walked slowly forward, stopping just short of Rick’s reach.

 

“Daryl.”  Rick froze then, all too aware of the reality of what he was doing. Rick jerked his gaze to Daryl’s for one quick, panicked instant, saw the echoing panic in Daryl’s face, before reaching out with his left hand and slowly placing it on Daryl’s head. Daryl tensed as Rick pushed down, going to his knees with a soft _thump_. There was resistance and uncertainty in every movement, but he went.

 

“After this, you guys fuck off.”  With one hand Rick tossed his knife to the ground, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. “You _leave him be_.”

 

“Anything you say, Rick.” Joe sounded mildly amused, like Rick’s words were funny as hell.

 

Rick changed his hold, gripping the hair on the top of Daryl’s head in one fist to hide the tremors of his fingers . “I mean it. You’ll give me your word.”

 

At that, Joe’s whole demeanor changed. He stared solemnly, from Daryl to Rick, to the faces of his enraptured men. When he spoke, he did it slowly, as though coming to some sort of realization. “Alright. You do it, claim him proper so no one can dispute your hold, and no one will touch him, ‘less he gives them reason.”

 

Rick’s hand trembled so much he almost couldn’t make it obey his brain. He took a deep breath that he hoped wasn’t too loud and yanked Daryl’s face closer to his crotch.

 

He’d never been further from being hard in his life. Daryl made a surprised sound and flailed with his hands, catching himself by bracing with one on Rick’s hip, and the other on his thigh, near his healing gunshot wound.

 

His whispered, “Rick?” made Rick feel like the lowest of the low, like one of the bottomfeeders that he’d surrounded himself with.  It didn’t stop him from thrusting against Daryl’s face, miming the movement of sex. He still wasn’t hard, and with the zipper open his dick ended up mashed between Daryl’s face and his jeans. It was uncomfortable as hell. Rick moved his hands to Daryl’s chin, as though he were holding his mouth open while he fucked his throat, and heard Daryl give a choking cough of some word mangled beyond recognition. From their vantage point, Daryl looked meek and submissive, allowing Rick to fuck his face. Rick spared a second to hate Joe and his fucking ‘Claimers’, knowing that he was killing any chance of friendship he and Daryl had.

 

But when he felt Daryl’s hand move from his thigh to his cock, Rick stopped moving as though a switch had been thrown.

 

He heard the footstep seconds after. It was Daryl that was in the lead now, gently pulling his softened penis out of its confinement. Rick had only a split-second of _what the fuck_ before he felt Daryl’s humid breath on the head, then the heat of his mouth enclosing him completely.

 

Rick forgot that they had an audience, forgot that this was his possibly former best friend on his knees in front of him, forgot everything but the feel of Daryl’s tongue as it moved against the sensitive head of his dick, the tightness of his mouth as he sucked. Rick heard a punched-out grunt and realized it was him making that sound. Daryl tugged on his hip, and Rick tentatively moved his hips forward in response.

 

He hadn’t-- It had been years since-- Rick’s mind fumbled about as the blood in his head rushed south, filling his cock until he was hard enough that Daryl made a surprised sound before tightening his mouth. He and Lori hadn’t had regular, normal sex since before the CDC, and even then she hadn’t used her mouth overly much. Rick cursed a gritted out “ _-Fuck-_ ” as he moved his hands again; one tangling in Daryl’s hair and the other cupping the back of his neck.

 

“Oh, that’s nice.” Len’s oily voice was much, much closer than it should be.

 

It jarred Rick out of his shock.  Rick shifted his weight so that he wouldn’t fall, constricted as he was with his jeans around his ass,  pressing his upper back against the bark and pulled out of Daryl’s mouth. Rick moved his hand to the small sheath Daryl kept in the back of his jacket, brushing his fingers against the grip of the knife he found there. The air was cold on his wet dick. Rick’s movement caused it to slap against Daryl’s cheek and Rick almost collapsed there from the utter surreality of their actions.

 

“Your-- guy is gonna lose something valuable if he doesn’t back the fuck off. _I... don’t...share._ ” Rick almost didn’t recognize his own voice. The words were a garbled, growling warning: Rick was just about at the end of his rope with this shit.

 

Rick felt Daryl’s body heave, as though stifling some movement. He met Daryl’s eyes for just a moment, before his courage left him and his gaze skittered away like a rat in the night. The glance was too brief to read anything, but it still manage to hit him like a punch to the kidneys. Daryl’s eyes narrowed, glittering with something Rick could not name.

 

“Len! Back off, now. You can watch from over here.” It sickened Rick that even Joe’s voice had tightened, like he was getting off on what he was seeing.  

 

“Open, Daryl.”  Rick’s voice was still in the lower register. Daryl’s eyes widened, but his mouth dropped open, and Rick slid his cock back inside that heat, thrusting gently but tightening his fingers in Daryl’s hair.

 

Daryl moved forward, ignoring the spit that dripped out of his mouth as he opened wider, taking each, slow inch of Rick’s cock until Rick felt the bush of his pubic hair brush against Daryl’s wet chin. Had his jeans been down lower, his balls would have slapped against him too. As it was, they had tightened enough that Rick knew this wasn’t going to last long. He was both afraid to drag it out and terrified for it to be over too quickly, worried for one brief, hysterical second that Joe, Dan, Billy, Harley and Len would be holding score cards, rating his performance. Daryl dug his nails into Rick’s hip, moving his other hand around to his tailbone, almost on his ass and _pulled him deeper_.

 

Oh Jesus fucking _Christ._  

 

Rick pulled out and ignored the sound of Daryl gagging, thrusting back inside deeply enough that he knew he had to be restricting Daryl’s air. Daryl sucked when he could, opened his mouth and choked on spit and precome, let Rick fuck his throat for several impossibly good minutes. Rick was so intent on the immense pleasure of the filthy blowjob that he almost missed the realization that when he moved again for balance, his shin brushed against the vee of Daryl’s thighs. Daryl’s low moan didn’t hide that he was hard as a rock, and that realization tipped Rick over the edge, over any possibility of holding back. Rick heard clanging in his head as he came with a garbled moan, biting his lip until he tasted blood, thrusting one last time so deeply into Daryl’s throat that when he pulled out for the last time he was surprised to see a long string of come and spit still connected them.

 

“Shit! _Rick_!!”  Daryl’s eyes widened as he grabbed the knife Rick had thrown earlier and stabbed it into the head of the walker that had materialized behind the tree. Almost as an afterthought, Daryl wiped his face on the back of his hand.

 

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me.” It was a bit of a shock to go from utter, complete bliss to brain matter and blood, to say the least.  Rick jerked his gaze up and saw Joe’s men shooting the walkers in their camp. Rather belatedly, Rick realized that the clanging he'd heard was the half-ass alarm they'd strung while he was so distracted. To his utter and complete shock, Daryl shoved his gore-covered knife at him. “Now. You gotta go. Get the fuck out of here.”

 

Daryl actually shoved him, and Rick realized the ridiculousness of his situation, standing there with his dick hanging out to the wind. He didn’t much fancy a walker getting their hands on it. Rick tucked himself back in quickly, still a little stunned by the suddenness of the goings on in camp. Then, what Daryl actually _said_ hit him, and he jerked his head, shaking it.  There was one walker shambling towards them, and Daryl turned and knifed it with the smaller knife he kept hidden on his back. “I don’t want you here. You made sure I’d be safe, so I don’t need you anymore. _Go_ , Rick. Get the fuck gone and don’t come back.”

 

* * *

 

(TBC- aaaand another cliffhanger. Don’t kill me. Might not have an update tomorrow, depending on the holidays. )

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N for this chapter. Angst, violence and now we pick up with canon again. (Specifically the attempted rape of a minor- as seen in S04x16, A) 
> 
> Long chapter is long. :D

 *****

Rick stumbled across the train tracks, feeling as though he was at the end of his rope.  It had taken him a couple of tries to backtrack, and he figured he was probably two days behind Carl and Michonne by the time he’d found his old camp.  Once he’d gotten his bearings (weirdly- his jacket had still been there from where Michonne had been using it to rest) it had been easy enough to find the simple marks Michonne made on the bottom of the trees, one for every few hundred feet. When he saw the shack, Rick had known what he’d find there before he’d stumbled across the makeshift alarms.

 

Rick stopped short, staring at his son as Carl tipped back his hat, concentrating.  His son let the knife fly and whooped when it hit, dead center. Michonne noticed Rick standing there (that woman missed nothing) but finished the knife-throwing lesson against the wall of the shack before nudging Carl with her shoulder, indicating Rick with her chin.

 

“Dad?” _Dad_!”

 

Rick’s eyes teared up. He grunted a little when Carl hugged him, blinking furiously so that they wouldn’t spill over.

 

“Hey, Carl.” He wrapped his arms around him and clung for a moment, before looking up and meeting Michonne’s eyes, inexplicably grateful. “Michonne.” She grinned at him, eyes flicking over him from top to bottom, taking in every single bruise.  

 

“Are you tired? We got us a place, but there’s no food. The mattress isn’t bad though, although it smells a bit funny. Michonne found some alcohol, but she wouldn’t let me drink it. We found a lot of cans-” Rick winced at the word  “- but nothing to eat.”

 

“Alright jabberjaws.” Rick reached out and grasped Michonne’s shoulder in thanks. “Yeah. I’m beat. I don’t think I’ve slept in...” Rick calculated in his mind, then frowned. That couldn’t be right. Last night he’d rested, but had been afraid to sleep. The night before he hadn’t slept. Nor the night before _that_ when everything had gone to shit. The night before that he’d slept for a few hours, while Michonne had watch. Had it really only been four days since he’d seen them? It seemed like ages. Impossible. “...In awhile. I’m beat, more’n anything.”

 

“You look like shit.” Michonne’s voice was almost chipper.

 

“Yeah, well...” Rick shrugged. He was exhausted, and sore, and he desperately wanted to lie down. “C’mon. You can show me that mattress.”

 

“How’s your leg?” Michonne’s held the string of cans so that Rick could fold himself through.

 

“Fine. My walking tour of the wilds of Georgia didn’t help overmuch.”

 

“You rest. I got this.”

 

Rick found himself choking up again. “I know you do.” He looked around. There wasn’t much more than the mattress and a few musty blankets. Shit, as exhausted as he was, it looked like a five-star suite.  He kicked off his boots and took off his filthy socks.

 

“Aww, man. Those reek.” Carl made a disgusted face as he bullied his way inside, sitting on the floor by Rick’s head. He was whittling something with his knife and looked like he wasn’t about to let his dad out of his sight. Which was fine. Rick felt pretty much the same way.

 

“You hush up, or I’ll boil them for your dinner.”

 

“Shit. I’m hungry enough to eat ‘em. We couldn’t get the traps to work, so we’ve been grazing on what we could find. You want to show me again? The rabbit traps I mean. I keep tryin’, but it don’t work.”

 

“ _Doesn’t_ work.” Rick stifled a grin when Carl rolled his eyes. “ Yeah, I think I still have some rope, no. No, shit. I lost my pack. “Rick had left his pack at Joe’s camp when Daryl had...

 

Daryl. _Fuck._

 

He’d done a pretty successful job of keeping himself from thinking of _anything_ having to do with the night he left- aside from a stray flash of Daryl’s face.  Funnily enough, the act itself was eclipsed by Daryl’s later telling him to leave. Insisting. Almost begging.  Rick stopped his thoughts with a sharp jerk of his head, then flopped back onto the mattress, scrubbing his hands over his face and beard briskly before flinging his arms out to the side. His time in the woods had given him time to think, but he wasn’t entirely certain that he’d been able to reach anything worthwhile. He didn’t know if it was his mind or the situation that kept his brain running in circles, but his exhaustion was keeping him from staying sharp.  

 

Now, with his son beside him, humming something that was horribly off key, and the muffled sounds of Michonne in the distance, Rick allowed himself to relax.

 

When he woke up, Carl was snoring besides him, and Michonne had a miniscule fire lit. It was just enough to see by. She sat fairly comfortably with one of the blankets on the floor under her, and her katana on top. The soft _snikt snikt_ of her sharpening it was a familiar sound.  Rick stretched, hearing things pop and settle into place, and reckoned he’d slept for at least the rest of the day, and a couple hours into night. He felt rested, anyway. Michonne handed him her water bottle, and he took a grateful sip, sitting up and looking down at his son.  In his sleep, Carl turned part octopus. Rick had shifted over so that he was hugging the very edge of the mattress, while Carl had sprawled with his arms and legs flung wide, face down with half of his face smooshed into the mattress, easily taking up two-thirds of the space.

 

“He was pretty brave. Took down three of them with your gun.” Michonne’s voice, even as low as it was, caused Carl to twitch in his sleep.  Rick frowned down at his son, then hauled his ass up so that he and Michonne could talk outside. She jerked her head to the left, and there, sitting by Carl’s backpack was his holster and Colt Python. He picked it up and buckled it on, feeling much better with the comforting weight on his hips.

 

They paused to listen, and heard nothing except night bugs. Rick looked up at the sky and saw that it was a little cloudy. They could have rain, possibly.

 

He and Michonne moved off far enough that they’d not disturb Carl by speaking, but still close enough to get to the shack (even without a door or window, it was fairly defensible) if there was trouble.

 

“Okay. Start from the night you left.” Michonne crossed her arms. It was her ‘give me no bullshit’ stance and Rick was just as susceptible as anyone else.

 

Rick sighed, pinched the top of his nose, and began.  “I was on watch, and saw signs of a bigger camp. I went to investigate and saw a buncha guys, all heavily armed. They were ... raping ... a woman. I tried to make it back undetected, but fucked up. They heard me and were just riled up enough to pursue. I got to you, told you to leave, and made it seem like I was alone.”

 

“Yeah. Carl saw you get hit. He about took off my arm to get to you while I was busy with one of your assholes.  Took a bit to get him away. He was pretty pissed at me for awhile. In fact, he was just about over it when you strolled up, lookin’ like you’d used up at least seven of your nine lives. You gonna tell me what else happened?”

 

Rick paused, shame flooding him so quickly he drowned for a moment, unable to meet her eyes. Rick shook his head. “It was bad. I... did something.”

 

Michonne was quiet, staring at him with her steady gaze, patiently waiting until he could look at her again. “Nothin’ is that bad if it got you back to your boy.”

 

Rick really, really wished that were true.

 

Rick laughed. It was an ugly sound. “Well, funny thing is, you can hurt and murder people with a pretty clear conscience, but the trouble with that is you get complacent. It becomes a little worrisome, then just another thing that happens so you are alive at the end of the day. You get this hubris that screams at you, this confidence that you know what’s best. You find out pretty quickly that whatever confidence you had doesn’t do much good when you’re caught in a situation so fucked up there isn’t a clean way out, so you make a decision and go with it and pray that it doesn’t fuck you up too badly at the end. Only...” Rick’s voice cracked. “Only, I’m not sure it didn’t.”

 

Michonne snorted. “Bullshit. Get over it. That boy in there says you ain’t got a choice. So you keep movin’ on and find a way to forgive yourself, cuz you’re the only one that can, Rick. You can tell me if you want to, and I can cry with you if you need me to, but facts aren’t going to change.”

 

Rick took a step back, processing what she said. He cocked his head. “What did you say you did before all this?”

 

“Life coach. Had me a chain of gyms in Marietta and Norcross.”

 

Rick blinked. “Ri---iight.” He drew out the word, disbelieving.

 

Michonne’s lips twitched and she laughed. “Lawyer.” Rick had to bite his lip so that he wouldn’t grin.

 

“I mean it though. You’re a good guy, Rick. Even good guys have to do some bad shit, but that doesn’t make you any less good.”  Michonne stepped forward and pulled him into a short, sharp hug. “It just makes you... pragmatic.”

 

Rick let himself rest his forehead on Michonne’s shoulder, not deserving her comfort but greedy enough to take it anyway. “Pragmatic, huh?”  They separated and Rick sighed again. “You give any thought to where we should go?”

 

“I keep seeing those Terminus signs. Y’know, if any of our group got out, that’s where they’d head towards. They wouldn’t go back towards Atlanta.”

 

Rick nodded. It was true enough. They couldn’t stay here. There were towns to the west, but he was fairly certain that’s where Joe and his group were still rambling about, assuming any of them were ali--. Rick shut down that train of thought immediately.  “Terminus is south of Atlanta, accordin’ to the map we saw. Near Forsyth.”

 

Carl’s voice popped up, floating out to them from the shack. “Hey, you guys aren’t kissing or something gross, are you?”

 

Michonne laughed outright at that, turning and tossing her water bottle at Carl’s head, where he peeped up from the window.  “ _No._ Jackass. I guess if everyone’s up anyway, then we might as well get going! A nice night-time stroll would be ...” Michonne trailed off, looking over at Rick worriedly.  He knew she was just inventing a reason to keep them going. A distraction.

 

Rick shook his head, smiling a little at the outraged face Carl made when Michonne hit her target dead center. He walked back inside and the three of them divvied up the meager belongings in their packs. Only Carl and Michonne had one, but they were both almost empty, aside from two lighters (Rick kept his in his pocket), one full water bottle, one half-full water bottle. Carl had a book, and Michonne had a roll of toilet paper and a map of Georgia.  Carl folded up one of the blankets and pushed it in the bottom of his pack, and Michonne triumphantly held up a rolled pair of bright yellow socks, patterned with little smiley faces before flinging them at Rick’s head.

 

Rick caught them with one hand. He didn’t even complain when he put them on. They weren’t very thick, stretched thinly around his much larger foot, but they were clean, and dry, and didn’t reek. He felt much better when he slid his boots on, kicked out the fire, and went behind the shack to piss before they moved on their way. All in all, as long as he avoided thinking too clearly about what he’d done, Rick figured that he felt better than he had done in quite awhile.

 

A quick discussion had them deciding to continue to follow the tracks, while staying off the bigger roads. Rick’s plan was to make it near Barnesville by dark, but since he wasn’t one-hundred percent sure where they were, he knew that might not totally fly. Either way, they had a direction, it would be daylight in an hour or so, and there wasn’t a damn thing keeping them here.

 

*****

“That was one small rabbit.” Rick poked absently at the fire. The dark night was silent enough that they could hear the sounds of frogs croaking to one another, the cricket’s repetitive chirping. They’d stopped to camp on the side of a road, where a large, GMC SUV had crashed.  The dead walker to the left with the tire marks along its back told enough of a story of what the truck had hit.  Rick and Michonne had lit a small fire near the front of the truck, while Carl slept in the passenger side.

 

“It was something. Got to hand it to the thing. It traveled well.”  

 

Rick chuckled. “Have you noticed that's all we talk about anymore? Food. I forgot what this feels like.”

 

“Me, too. I hope we're able to forget again soon.” Michonne’s stomach gurgled as though in agreement.

 

Rick hid a smile and cocked his head, nodding a little at Michonne’s words. “We're close. Just got to make it through another day.” Rick kicked sand on their small fire, blinking a little until his eyes adjusted. “If folks there are taking people in, they have to be strong. They have to have a system.”

 

“I wonder if the whole thing's legit.”

 

In the distance, branches snapped. Rick and Michonne turned towards the sound, rising almost at the same time to search in the darkness. After awhile, they relaxed a little, and Rick crouched again, continuing. “We let people in.”

 

“We did. So did the Governor.”

 

“Yeah, it's always the same, isn't it? Don't get to know until we know. Maybe this place isn't even there anymore.”

 

The cold kiss of the gun barrel against his temple caused Rick to freeze.  Joe’s voice was amused, smug when he spoke. “Oh, dearie me.  Tony kicked Michonne’s katana out of her reach, pulling his gun on her. “You screwed up, asshole. You hear me? You screwed up!” Rick’s heart turned to ash in his throat as he saw Harley and Billy step out of the woods from the other side, pulling their guns on Rick and Michonne, killing any chance they had at escape.

 

“Today is a day of reckoning, sir. Restitution! A balancing of the whole damn universe. A way for you to pay for your sins.” Rick shot a glance towards Carl in the truck and saw Dan press himself up against the passenger side door. It was too dark to see Carl’s expression from where he and Michonne crouched, but Rick could well imagine the fear on his son’s face.

 

Joe pressed the gun into Rick’s temple harder. “Shit, and I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year's Eve.” He laughed, like he’d told the greatest joke ever. Rick shut his eyes, overwhelmed. He could fight, maybe make a distraction for Michonne to get away, but that left three of those fuckers for Carl. “Now who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh?”

 

There was a brief pause while the men smirked at one another, appreciating what was coming. “Ten Mississippi.” Rick saw in his mind’s eye a flash of Carl’s face as the water bottle from last night bonked off his forehead, saw him sprawled out on the dingy mattress, deeply asleep. “Nine Mississippi.”  Judith’s sweet face in the blue onsie, that someone had written ‘Lil Asskicker’ on in sharpie, kicking her feet and laughing, bright, beautiful belly laughs when her toes wiggled.  “Eight Mississippi.”  Daryl’s face when he saw Rick for the first time after Rick had claimed him, like he was ecstatic and terrified at the same moment.  The ecstatic had won out and they’d both grinned like total idiots at each other for one split second.

 

“Joe!”  For a second, Rick thought that his memory had summoned him, but no. Daryl - _Daryl!_ \- walked out from the other side of the truck slowly, becoming less and less indistinct as the moon shone down on his face. Rick squinted, absolutely shocked, not entirely certain that what he was seeing was real.

 

“Hold up.” Daryl looked like he couldn’t believe what his eyes were showing him.  Shit, Rick, couldn’t blame him.

 

“You're stopping me on eight, Daryl.” Joe sounded annoyed, which couldn’t be a good sign. Rick absolutely loathed the feeling of being trapped. He couldn’t move, couldn’t act, could do nothing but sit there and stare, absolutely helpless.

 

“Just hold up.”

 

“This is the guy that killed Lou, and the bitch that killed Mike, so we got _nothing_ to talk about.” Harley sounded both angry and vindicated; a child trying to convince their parent of something. Rick could feel his heart beating in his chest like some small, trapped bird, frantic to escape.

 

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothing _but_ time. Say your piece, Daryl.” Joe had that same amused tone that Rick remembered from that night. He didn’t trust it for an instant.

 

Daryl’s voice was clear as he spoke. “These people, you're gonna let 'em go. These are good people.” He didn’t fuck around, just told Joe how it was gonna be. Rick cut his gaze back over to the truck. Dan was rocking his hips against the door. It looked obscene.

 

He tried to move his head a hair’s breath away from the barrel of the gun at his temple, but Joe was having none of it. “Now, after that little show the two of you put on, you're gonna try to convince me that he's not a complete piece of shit? Tony here recognized him once he got that gauze off his eyes. I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I'll, of course, have to speak for him and all 'cause your friend here strangled him in a bathroom.”

 

Rick shut his eyes again. He could see the man in the house, hear the commotion, feel the pain from his injuries, remember his desperation to get away before Carl and Michonne came back to their temporary home with their scavenged supplies. He’d strangled that man, Lou, and these were his friends, friends who wanted nothing but their pound of flesh in exchange.

 

Daryl paused for a second, looking back at Rick. “You want blood, I get it. Take it from me, man.” There was a soft sound as Daryl threw his garbage bag and crossbow to the ground. He stood there, defenseless, giving himself up for Rick, Carl, and Michonne. Rick felt sick. Daryl was once again putting Rick’s people ahead of his own safety.  “Come on.”

 

There was a beat of silence before Joe spoke. “This man killed our friend. You say he's good people. See, now that right there... is a lie.”

 

Any little flame of hope he’d had extinguished so completely that there wasn’t even a puff of smoke to show it had existed.  Rick watched with his heart in his throat as Daryl lowered his arms, like he knew what was coming.

 

_“It's a lie!”_

 

Harley whirled, smacking Daryl in the face with his rifle. Daryl folded over, groaning. Billy wasted no time, jumping him and punching him in the face.

 

“No!” Rick yelled, enraged. Helpless.

 

Joe nudged him with the gun again. He spat out, “Teach him, fellas! Teach him all the way.”

 

From the truck, Carl’s panicked “No!” cut through the night like a siren. Carl was so terrified that his voice cracked. The sound went through Rick like a bullet.   

 

There was a cry of pain as someone punched Daryl. Rick could see that Daryl was struggling, fighting back when he could. Yet Rick could do nothing but watch and wait for his moment... to do something. _Anything_ other than crouch here like some kind of asshole. Rick could see Carl struggling for all he was worth; his smaller body twisting as he kicked and hit. Dan had him in a bear hug, from behind. “Come here, boy.”

 

“You leave him be!” Rick roared. He moved without thinking, and Joe pushed him down, like an afterthought.

 

“Shh.” Dan whispered in Carl's ear, mocking him, knowing he was terrifying the boy and getting off on it. Dan kissed at Carl’s ear, but Carl could only pull away in revulsion, too scared to scream. He whimpered instead, and Rick tensed, wracking his mind for something else to do, some way to get them out of this.

 

Michonne tried for the gun, but only got a low, “You'll get yours. You just wait your turn.” from Tony as he kicked her back into place.

 

Desperately, Rick tried to reason with Joe one more time. ““Listen, it was me. It was just me!”

 

Joe leaned down, pressing the gun back into Rick’s temple. “See, now that's right. That's not some damn lie. Look, we can settle this. We're reasonable men. First, we're gonna beat Daryl to death. So much for your claim now, eh? Pity that a yellow coward like yerself had to run off on him. Look, Rick. Look at him.” Joe snorted, like he had any idea, any _conception_ of what it was doing to Rick to watch this.

 

Rick glanced back at the truck. Harley hit Daryl, who fell into Billy’s fist. They passed him back and forth, punching Daryl anywhere they could. Daryl could barely get his breath to fight back. He sprawled onto the ground and didn’t get back up. Joe tapped Rick’s temple again with the gun to get his attention.  “Then we'll have the girl. Then the boy. Then I'm gonna shoot you and _then_ we'll be square.” Joe started laughing, as though this casually discussing the rape and murders of four people was the funniest joke he could imagine.

 

Rick jerked his gaze from Daryl when Dan pushed Carl to the ground, falling on top of him and laughing. Rick saw him push up to his knees, spreading Carl’s legs with his own.

 

“Let him go.” Rick spoke calmly, evenly.

 

“Stop your squirming!” Dan reached for Carl’s hands, pressing them down to the ground. Both he and Joe were laughing now.

 

“Let him go.”

 

Carl’s whimper of fear seemed louder than anything else. Rick reacted, knowing that it was likely going to end poorly, but not able to give a fuck. All he could think about was getting to Carl, saving him somehow. He whipped his head back, startling Joe. There was a crunch of broken bone, then Joe’s hand tightened reflexively on the gun, squeezing the trigger of the .45.

 

The gunshot echoed through the night, startling everyone into freezing for an instant. All Rick could hear were his ears ringing from the proximity of the shot. He staggered to his feet and turned, punching Joe. The movement made him lurch unexpectedly, the headache from his concussion flaring into sudden incandescent brightness. Joe sneered, pistol whipping him so hard that Rick hit the ground with a thud at Michonne’s feet.

 

“I got him. Oh, it's gonna be so much worse now,” Joe warned, furious as he dabbed at his broken nose, kicking at Rick’s ribs.  Rick tried to get up, saw Billy and Harley still beating Daryl.  Michonne tried for the gun on her, but Tony slapped her instead. Rick barely heard the shot. The only sounds that seemed to register were the groaning cries of his son as he desperately tried to get away from the man on top of him. It was obvious that Dan was toying with him, letting him have a brief second to think that he was free before hauling his smaller body back to where he wanted it.

 

“Come on, get up! Come on. Let's see what you got.”

 

Rick saw through bleary half-conscious eyes that they’d picked Daryl up and slammed him against the hood of the truck.  Dan flipped Carl over and was holding him to the ground. A belt buckle clinked. “Shh”, Dan cooed, still laughing.  Rick crawled, unable to get up.  “Get away from him before I -”  Rick managed to stagger to his feet, only to have Joe grab him in a bear hug.

 

“Huh? Right over here. What the hell are you gonna do now, sport?” Joe kept laughing, tightening his arms around Rick’s body.

 

Rick _snapped._

 

With a scream of rage, Rick drove his head forward, biting Joe’s throat. He bit, tearing with his teeth, feeling the salty copper tang of Joe’s blood bloom in his mouth like some macabre rose. Joe stared at him, shocked, only able to gurgle as he began to bleed out.  His arms loosened, and Rick spit the mouthful of flesh and blood out onto the ground. He could feel something stringy in his mouth and some, tiny part of his brain started screaming in horror at the realization that it was Joe’s jugular vein.

 

Shocked, every one of Joe’s men froze, unable to believe what they’d seen... Michonne took her chance, grabbing Tony’s wrist with the gun and forcing the man’s arm back so she could pull the trigger, shooting him in the head. He fell to the ground with a thump.

 

Daryl took advantage of Harley and Billy’s shock, turning and punching with renewed vigor. Rick watched in a blink of an eye while Michonne turned the gun on Harley, shooting him in the head.

 

Dan scrambled back off of Carl, grabbing him cruelly by the hair and lurching back so that they both stood, using Carl as a shield. He held the knife to Carl’s throat. “I'll ...I'll kill him!”

 

“Let the boy go!” Michonne’s scream permeated the dull fog of Rick’s shock. Daryl punched a bloody-looking Billy to the ground, raising his boot and stomping Billy’s head, so that the skull cracked, sending blood and brain matter spraying out.  Rick bent down and grabbed Joe’s knife. Rick thought it seemed fitting. Some kind of poetic fucking justice. Rick didn’t bother to wipe the blood off of himself as he stalked forward. “He's mine.”

 

Dan, terrified, pushed Carl out of the way, letting him go. Rick noticed idly that Carl scrambled towards Michonne with a cry, who held him, cradled him with her arms.  Dan’s voice cracked as he begged. “Stay b-b-ack. Stay! _Please!!_ ” Rick grinned as he stuck the knife in Dan’s dick, feeling the flesh part as he pushed the knife up, through his intestines, his gut, his heart, all the way up to his throat. Blood washed over him in a warm, sticky wave. When the blade of Joe’s knife reached Dan’s throat, Rick tossed the carcass to the ground and began stabbing him in the face, over and over until his fingers were too bloody to hold the knife properly and slipped in its grip.

 

A brush against his shoulder had him stopping, barring the knife and growling. Daryl jumped back, almost falling on his ass and the fact that it was Daryl there shocked Rick so much that he dropped the knife. Daryl was speaking, crouched down at eye level, but Rick couldn’t understand the words. His mouth moved, but there was no connection, just the high-pitched ringing in his ears and the sound of his heartbeat, thudding in his chest. In the next heartbeat sound returned, albeit with the same high-pitched whine he couldn’t seem to get rid of.  With a cry, Rick started to crawl towards Carl, but the boy made a low, terrified sound in the back of his throat and turned into Michonne’s body, hiding like the child he was, hoping that if he didn’t see the monster, then the monster wouldn't see him.

 

Whatever was left of Rick’s heart broke at that moment. His own son was... _afraid_. Of him. Of his _father_.  He froze and backed off, giving Carl space until he could see him relax minutely, still shaking.  Rick had never been so grateful in his life as for Michonne at that moment, who met his gaze with no malice in her expression, looking for all the world as though she was perfectly content to hold Carl’s shaking, trembling body, protecting him throughout the night. Or longer, if necessary.

 

In a daze, Rick looked blankly at the wreck of Dan’s body, eyes skirting quickly over to Tony’s, then Harley’s and Billy’s... then Joe’s. He felt his stomach gurgle unpleasantly.

 

Daryl slowly reached out and picked up Joe’s knife, before standing up and stalking over to Joe’s still twitching body. He calmly stabbed Joe through the eye socket, then flung the knife into the brush. Rick watched dumbly as Daryl pulled the bodies back into the brush one by one, hiding them from sight.  With a cough, Rick felt his stomach spasm, and he leaned over to vomit, heave after heave until even the bile stopped.

 

Rick flinched as Daryl grabbed his shoulders, expecting a blow, a punch... something.  What he did _not_ expect was Daryl gently helping him to stand. He looked around in a panic and didn’t see his son or Michonne, but before he could say anything, Daryl tightened his grip, speaking slowly and softly. “They’re in the truck. I gave them some water and they put up blankets. She’s with him, Rick. He’s fine. He’s okay. You saved him. Now, c’mon. You need to sit down.”

 

Rick let himself be led, noticing idly that Daryl quickly divested him of his weapons, before guiding Rick to sit down with his back against one of the GMC’s tires.  

 

He could hear Carl sobbing quietly from inside the truck, and could only sit there, trembling, unable to help him because Rick had done it- he’d finally gone too far.  He’d frightened Carl so much that his own son couldn’t bear to let him near, to help.

 

When Carl next slept, _if_ he slept again, it wouldn’t be the walkers he dreamt about. Nor would it be what he’d had to do to his mother, or any of the horrors he’d seen at the prison. They wouldn’t even be of the man who had tried to rape him. No. When Carl closed his eyes and slipped into a fitful approximation of sleep, the monster that would haunt his nightmares would be none other than his own father.

 

Rick didn’t deserve to comfort his child. He didn’t deserve Daryl’s kindness, or Michonne’s understanding.  The thought crossed his mind of leaving, but before he could move, Daryl sat down next to him with a grunt, shoulder to shoulder.  He didn’t try to talk. He didn’t make Rick talk. He just sat with him, steadfast, keeping watch throughout the rest of the long, long night.

 

TBC---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Okay, so I’m a giant nerd. I grew up in Georgia, and spend most of my time trying to figure out exactly where they are and I’m not alone, according to this [lovely human](http://%20http://scifi.stackexchange.com/questions/33170/where-do-the-events-of-the-walking-dead-take-place). So, If a road name is wrong, or if I goof up the name of a town, please forgive me. I’m going by memory of where I think things are (I started with West Central Ga Prison and went from there) and a three-second Google maps search. :) According to the map in the show, Terminus would be Macon-ish, but I think the area we saw around Terminus was a little too rural, so I moved it a little further north near Forsyth. (Yes, I know Forsyth is hardly rural, but nor is it a deep, thriving metropolis, and this is a zombie apocalypse so work with me here. xD)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi! It’s me again. *waves* You’ll notice that I’ve played fast and loose with the dialogue for this part... Yeah. You guessed it in light of the not-so recent events of this fic, I had to take the ‘brother’ line out. *cough*

 

Rick’s ass was numb. He hadn’t been dreaming exactly, but the memory of Hershel had seemed so fucking real. That whole time seemed so idyllic now, like it had happened to someone else.   Rick shifted and winced slightly. He noticed for the first time that his hands were still covered in blood, and still trembling.  He heard the snap of a twig and jumped. It was just Daryl. He walked up and offered Rick a bottle of water. Seeing Daryl gave him something to focus on. Rick blinked, then blinked again. To his surprise, Daryl didn’t offer it to him to drink, but dabbed it on a rag and thrust it towards Rick with an impatient gesture.

 

“We should save it to drink.” Rick was surprised that his voice sounded as normal as it did. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, and, he found to his surprise- he really didn’t give a fuck.

 

“You can't see yourself. _He_ can.” Daryl used the bottle of water to point towards the GMC truck.

 

True enough. Rick wiped off his face as best he could, cringing at how much blood was still on his shirt and jacket. It had dried, but it felt sticky. He didn’t much fancy being a one-man walker buffet, but as all they had was that water bottle, Rick wasn’t about to complain. It was his fault, after all. All of it.

 

Daryl sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed together again. To Rick’s knowledge, it was the first time that Daryl had sat down all night. He’d checked on Carl, when Carl wouldn’t come near Rick (As much as Rick absolutely agreed with him... it still _hurt_.), rifled through the stuff they’d wanted to keep from Joe’s band of not-so-merry men, and then had disappeared for awhile, after pointedly leaving Rick’s gun near Rick’s leg. Rick had almost wished for something to come by their camp. He would have loved a reason to use up some of his trembling energy. Now though, now he was just tired. The numbness from before was starting to fade, and it was leaving Rick with his thoughts. Which- and Rick found that he could admit this freely- was just about the last thing he wanted to be left with. Guilt and regret made for poor bedfellows.

 

“I didn't know what they were gonna do.”  Daryl blurted it, ducking his head like he was ashamed. “It’s stupid, I know. But... I didn’t.”

 

Rick didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. Obviously, Daryl had no idea what that fucker planned to do with Carl... or with Michonne. In the two days (three?- Rick wasn’t all that sure.) since Rick had left Daryl after their... after the... after _that night (_ he’d made a special point not to remember the details of what he had done) Daryl would have had to survive with Joe’s group somehow. Rick was almost afraid to ask what he’d had to do. It wasn’t his right.

 

“You never told me what happened after the prison.” Rick had asked while they were by the river, or he had thought that he had, but Daryl hadn’t answered.

 

“I was with Beth. We got out together. I was with her for a while.”

 

With her? _With_ with her? Rick didn’t know how he could feel any more shame, but a slick tendril worked its way around his gut. That wasn’t his business. Daryl and Beth... that would be... good.” Rick saw in his mind’s eye a flash of Daryl’s wet lips as his cock slid out from between them and shivered. Rick started wiping the blood a little more aggressively, pushing down the memory.   _Not_ his business... but. He had to know. “Is she dead?”

 

“She's just gone. After that, that's when y’all found me. Well, you know. I mean, I knew they were bad, but they had a code. It was simple. Stupid, but it was something. It was enough. What you said - it kept them from... I was just a guy. Not their victim or nothin’.”

 

Michonne made a very deliberate noise in the GMC, and Rick inwardly cringed. God knew what she had put together, given what he’d said when they’d met up again, what Joe had taunted them with, and he and Daryl’s conversation had to be making her think...well. Something. God knew.

 

“I left you alone.” Rick’s voice was a low whisper.  The shame he’d managed to hide from before, the _guilt_ was a hard ball in his stomach.

 

Daryl shook his head. “I told you to, man. I knew that I’d be fine. Well, not _knew_ knew. Was pretty sure anyway. Guy was a dick, but had that whole Gary Cooper your word is your bond type of thing goin’ for him.” He gave Rick a little more water. “I found us a better place. There’s some walkers in the basement but--”

 

“Gary Cooper?”

 

“Wasn’t it? Shit, I don’t know. John Wayne? One of them guys.”

 

Rick had a crazy desire to laugh. He ruthlessly stifled it.  “Maybe when Carl’s awake. Michonne’ll be out when they’re ready.”

 

Daryl shrugged. “They said they were looking for some guy that killed a friend of theirs. Called him the cowboy. Said they said they spotted him.” Daryl’s words started to speed up. “I was hanging back. I was gonna leave. But I stayed. I didn’t know... Rick. I didn’t know it was you. That's when I saw it was you three. Right when you saw me.” Daryl sounded just about as upset as he’d ever sounded.

 

Rick wanted to touch him, but wasn’t sure if that would be okay. “It's not on you, Daryl.” Daryl looked away. Rick chanced it, nudging Daryl’s shoulder with his. “Hey. It's not on you. You being back with us here, now? That's everything. You're my... friend. My _best_ friend,” Rick blurted, wincing at the way his voice had cracked. “And I don’t think you’re the one that should be feeling guilty in all this. You saved us. _All_ of us, man.”

 

“Hey, what you did last night anybody would have done that.” Daryl sounded terribly earnest, like convincing Rick was his job.

 

“Naw, not that.” Rick could still taste the blood, feel the phantom …other things in his mouth.

 

“Something happened. That ain't you.” Daryl sounded very sure of himself.

 

“Daryl, you saw what I did to Tyreese. It ain't all of it, but that's me. That's why I'm here now. That's why Carl is. I want to keep him safe.”

 

“I know you do man.”

 

Michonne moved again and Rick heard her and Carl murmuring quietly.

 

“I think I better get cleaned up a bit before....” Rick didn’t want Carl to see him like this. He _never_ wanted Carl to see him like this. He scrubbed at his face, but it was useless. He needed a wash.

 

“Here. Give me your shirt and jacket. That’ll help some.” Rick blinked at Daryl, confused. “We can go to that place I found, hole up for a bit. It’s not as out in the open as this place.”

 

Rick found himself nodding, then blinking up at Daryl a little stupidly, unsure as to when Daryl had stood up. Daryl held out his hand and pulled Rick to his feet. Rick lurched and Daryl was just there, steadily holding him with his hands around Rick’s biceps until he had his balance.  Rick made his way over away from the GMC- pulling off the sticky, tacky clothes as he did. The air was cold enough that he shivered, but appreciated not being covered in blood.  His jeans were still soaked; Dan had bled like the pig he was, but most of it was around his waist and upper thighs, and blended in a little better with the black jeans. Rick shivered again, staring down at the bloody shirt and jacket.  

 

It wasn’t like there was a local laundromat around, so he was fairly certain that he could say goodbye to both garments. He kicked at them a little too forcefully, sending them sailing into the brush with a wet _splat._

 

“-not so hot. Concussed, I think. Shock, definitely.”

 

Rick looked back towards the truck, noticing that Daryl and Michonne were looking at him, Michonne frowning a little. Carl slowly wiggled out of the truck rubbing his eyes, and Rick’s heart lurched.

 

“Dad?”

 

“I’m here.”

 

Carl turned towards the sound of his voice. His hair stuck up at several different angles. His face was scraped from being pressed against the ground, and Rick could see that Carl’s knuckles were bloody from where he’d fought, and Jesus fucking _Christ_ , he would kill that fucking animal again, slower, just to listen to him scream for mercy.

 

Carl stumbled once as he started walking faster. Rick turned fully to face him, bracing himself for Carl to hit him, or lash out in some way. Instead, his son wrapped his skinny arms around Rick’s waist and hung on for dear life, pressing his face against Rick’s stomach and gasping in a deep breath. Rick jerked his gaze up to Michonne and Daryl.  The former’s eyes looked a little wet, and the later seemed painfully intent on examining a stain on his khakis.

 

“Michonne said you wouldn’t be mad at me.”

 

Rick was having a bit of trouble breathing past the sudden lump in his throat. “What? Why on earth would I be...”

 

“‘Cuz of last night.” Carl pulled away and looked up at him. “Because I went to her instead of you. I didn’t mean--”

 

“Whoa. No. No, Carl. I’m not mad. Don’t ever think that.”

 

Carl rubbed the back of his neck, obviously self-conscious. “Daryl said we were leavin’?”

 

Rick sucked in a long, serrated breath, pathetically grateful for the subject change. The emotional stuff had always been more Lori than him.  He and Carl walked the few steps back to where Michonne and Daryl stood. “I guess we are. But let’s get a move on, okay? It's damn cold out here!”

 

Daryl went to his bag and handed Rick a flannel shirt. “Here.” His voice was gruff, and he seemed to have trouble meeting Rick’s eyes.

 

“Thanks.” Their fingers brushed as Rick took the flannel. Daryl jerked his hand away.

 

“It’s not that clean, but it’s better than freezin’.”

 

Rick just nodded, feeling the guilt again squirming in his gut like some kind of twisted parasite.  He slid the shirt on and buttoned it up. It was much better than nakedness, but Daryl’s reaction still left him cold, and not just from the temperature.

 

He’d been forcing himself not to think about it, but he was going to have to get Daryl alone so he could... apologize. Something. Beg for forgiveness.

 

“Are you gentlemen about ready to go? Daryl said he found us a spot that could be good.” Michonne turned to Rick. “And don’t you think we’re gonna ignore the fact that you’ve got a concussion, do you? You walk in the middle, and the first time you feel like puking, you tell me.”

 

“You’ve got a concussion?”

 

“Another one’s more likely. He got banged up before, too.”

 

Carl put his hands on his hips, glaring up at Rick. “Wait. You mean- you had a concussion before? What the _hell_ , dad?”

 

Rick rolled his eyes, immediately regretting it when it felt like they were going to roll out of their sockets.  “I got a hard head. S’fine.” He shrugged. “Can’t do much about it now, really. Anything from in there y’all want to take?”  Rick indicated the truck with a jerk of his head.

 

“No,” Carl said fervently. “I wouldn’t mind leaving... and since we ain’t--”

 

“Aren’t _-_ \--” Rick, Daryl and Michonne corrected in unison.

 

“Oh come on! _He_ just said ‘I got a hard head,’ and neither of you said anything to that!” Carl whined, fighting a smile and losing. To Rick’s amusement, Carl’s impression of him was dead on- a deep, slow, southern drawl that was only a little embellished with sarcasm.

 

Daryl snorted.  “He’s the leader, kid. Best get used to it.” Daryl swung his crossbow up onto his shoulder.

 

“Before I was so rudely interrupted- I was _gonna_ say that since we don’t have anything for breakfast, I think we should head on out.”

 

Michonne turned to get their packs, whispering “going to” in a stage whisper and Carl actually laughed at that.  The laugh was a little forced, and equally hysterical, but it made Rick feel... well. Feel a little like things were a little less fucked up.

 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, ready to see what the day would bring.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“So what do you think?”

 

Rick had been fighting the feeling of his headache again. He was horribly thirsty, and the lack of water was gonna be a problem, but he honestly couldn’t focus enough to care. He was getting damn sick of feeling this fuzzy.  They had only walked for about forty-five minutes.  The cabin was hidden on a hill by a copse of trees covered with kudzu, so how Daryl had found the small, unpaved road was anybody’s guess.

 

Walking uphill was one of Rick’s new, least-favorite things to do, ever. Between Carl and Michonne’s hovering, and Daryl’s careful but increasingly concerned looks, Rick just wanted to fucking sit down already. The four of them weaved around the plant life where they could, trying to leave their path as unobtrusive as possible.

 

The cabin was small, hidden partially by the trees. At first (and second. And third) glance, it didn’t seem like anyone was there. There were boards on all the windows, and the front door, but they could see where Daryl had ripped them open so that he could get inside.

 

“Looks quiet.” Carl piped up in a whisper.

 

“Hmmnh.” Rick grunted. He looked at Daryl.  “You said somethin' about the basement?”

 

“Yeah. Too many t’take out at once. Didn’t want to spend too much time inside, away from you-- uh. _Guys_. You guys, but I think we can clear it.”

 

“Alright.”

 

They walked around the back to check, then put their belongings near the door so that in case this went south, they could easily grab their shit and get out.  Rick checked the bullets in his gun, and saw Carl doing the same.

 

The cabin had a main area, a small kitchen, and a loft. There was a door that obviously led to the basement and one that just as obviously led to a bathroom. The cabin was dark, but their footsteps caused the walkers downstairs to go crazy. It was hard to tell how many there were.  Michonne popped open the bathroom door, just to be safe, while Daryl did the same by climbing up the ladder to the loft. They'd learned the hard way to be through when they cleared a space.

 

“Actually, Daryl, I think both Rick and Carl should hang back. We can handle them, especially if they’re gonna come up the steps to the door for us.”  Michonne looked back at Rick and Carl. Her words might have sounded like a suggestion, but no one there was foolish enough to argue with her.

 

Rick shrugged. Carl made an irate sound but stepped back.  Rick wasn't used to being one of the protect _ees_ instead of the protect _ors_ and wasn't sure he much cared for it.  It was too dark to see properly, but Rick was kind of afraid that both he and Carl were wearing identical pouting expressions.

 

“Ready?” Daryl’s voice was steady.

 

It went just about like Michonne said. There was enough space on either side of the door that Michonne could go low and Daryl high. Michonne had eschewed her katana, instead using a smaller knife. Daryl did the same. He’d gotten the extra crossbow bolts, but had left his crossbow by Rick. The space was just small enough that a walker would come shambling up and either Michonne or Daryl would kill it, while the other took care of the next.  All told, there were eight of them.

 

Once Daryl had made sure there weren't any more, Rick went to one of the cabin's back windows and pried up one of the boards. Between the light from the window and the light from the door, they had enough to see.

 

It was pretty gruesome... The bodies weren't that old.  Rick figured three weeks, maybe. Two girls in their late teens, one younger boy, and what looked like three men Rick’s age, and one that was much older. The only woman looked like she was in her late fifties. The only one without any bites was the older man.  He sighed, surprised that he could feel sad about this, even after everything they’d seen. Everything he’d done.  Rick knew - they _all_ knew- that all it took was one.

 

"Musta died of natural causes." Daryl’s voice was closer than he thought. It made Rick jump a little.

 

"Like Patrick?" Carl's voice warbled a little at the end.

 

"I guess. C'mon. You want to help me clean up?"  Rick ignored the twin frowns from both Daryl and Michonne. He also ignored the way the two of them got the bigger bodies out of the way first.  It wasn’t very dignified, but the best they could do was a shallow grave in the back of the cabin’s yard. None of them had a shovel, and burning them would probably bring notice to their little cabin.

 

Once that was done, Daryl and Carl went downstairs to see what they could use, while Michonne and Rick looked through the upstairs.

 

Rick found a hurricane lamp and shook it, pleased to hear that there was fuel inside.  He lit the wick and smiled when soft light filled the space.  With the light he could see that the door had a fairly substantial latch. The picture windows were solidly boarded up, but there were three smaller windows that had shutters from the inside. When they were shut, they too were quite sturdy-looking, but opening them gave quite a decent amount of light.  Rick blew out the lamp, not wanting to waste the fuel.

 

It looked like the loft had been used by the three women. The ladder was bolted to the loft. It was modeled after a barn, so that while there was a sleeping area, there was no privacy. To Rick’s right was a larger mattress and several quilts. Rick carefully set the pictures and photo albums, and what looked like a journal aside, then stooped to shake out the blankets. They smelled surprisingly clean. To the left was a smaller mattress.  Rick ignored the teddy bear that sat in the middle of the bed, waiting for someone who would never come claim it.

 

“Dad!!” Carl’s voice cut through the quiet like a gunshot.

 

“Carl?! _Car_ l!” Rick almost fell down the damn ladder in his haste to get down.

 

There was the sound of footsteps thundering up the basement stairs and Daryl was there at the basement door, holding up his hands. “It’s fine. He’s fine. Just wanted to show you somethin’.”

 

“Damnit, Carl, you just about caused me to damn near pee myself.” Michonne put her katana back in its sheath with a soft _snikt_.

 

Rick stopped with one hand on the ladder, one foot on the floor. He clutched his chest with the other, and met Daryl’s gaze. Daryl’s lips twitched.

 

Carl’s sheepish “Uh... sorry.” floated up from the basement.  His volume was much quieter. “But come see! You guys aren’t gonna believe this.”

 

Rick raised his eyebrows, and Daryl just shook his head, a funny little smile on his face. He stood aside as Michonne started down the steps. “Watch yerself.” Daryl’s voice seemed very close to Rick’s ear and he suppressed another shiver.  Rick wasn’t sure why, but all the sudden he seemed to be overly aware of what space Daryl took up.   Daryl had thrown down a blanket so they wouldn’t track blood through the cabin, and they made their way gingerly down the stairs. There were more steps than Rick had thought. He stopped so suddenly that Daryl brushed against him. Michonne whistled as she looked around. Carl was almost bouncing in place, a huge grin on his face.

 

Rick was surprised to see how big the basement was. There was six feet of space, so that meant that if Rick had been any taller, he’d have had to stoop around. It was much wider than he had first thought. The space must have been built into the hill.  Either Carl or Daryl had opened the three windows to air the place out. One was broken, and had a piece of wood in front of it. The light that came in was helped by the white walls and tiled floor, and the effect that it was much lighter than he had anticipated. Rick found himself blinking a little, shocked.

 

It looked like they had taken the basement and added in a root cellar of sorts. That, or had enlarged a storm cellar. Either way, they could clearly see the doors that led up to the outside. The previous owners had clearly sealed one of the doors. Rick could see the cement patch job and approved. The other door had been reinforced, and looked very sturdy. Safe. There was another thick bar that stretched across both the cemented door and the one that opened, for additional security.  That way, with the top of the house secure, this would have been the only way in or out of the cabin. Since it opened out, it was extremely unlikely that a walker would ever be a threat, unless it happened to stumble upon the cabin and heard them below.

 

There were two mattresses pushed together in one corner of the room. A curtain of blankets had been strung along side of it for privacy.  On the other side of the room was obviously what they had rigged up for a bathroom. They had the egress from the basement, so it wasn’t as elaborate as it could have been, but there was no mistaking what that far corner was used for. Some smartass had hung a small cross-stitched ‘please be neat and wipe the seat’ on the wall behind the makeshift toilet.

 

But, what had Carl almost shrieking the house down was what the previous owners had managed to rig up for water. There were eight full 55-gallon barrels.

 

“They’re full, dad! Can you believe it?”

 

“Holy shit.” Rick whistled.

 

Daryl nudged his shoulder.  “Holy shit is right. Looks like they had a rain catcher system set up. Pretty good one. Filter system and purification tablets too. Fuckin’ _smar_ t.”

 

“Looks like they spent most of their time down here. They’re not fully stocked, but it’s pretty decent.  We could stay here a week if we wanted, and still have plenty of shit to eat on the road.” Michonne pointed to the shelving the previous owners had screwed into the wall. Rick could see plenty of canned goods. There were two Rubbermaid bins underneath them.

 

“Well, that’s one thing we need to discu---”

 

“Naw. No discussion. You’re hurt, Rick. You need the rest.” Daryl looked over at Carl. “And maybe you’re not the only one.” Daryl folded his arms across his chest.

 

“But what about Terminus?”

 

“What about it? It’s still gonna be there. What if you start bleeding in your brain cuz you got hit so many damn times?” Michonne’s voice was quiet. “We’ve been on the run since... since the prison. I’m tired, Rick.”  She turned, moving to check out the shelves.

 

“Dad- I... I’d like to stay.”

 

“Look. Even if we just stay for a few nights... “Daryl gestured around the small space. “It’s a pretty damn sweet setup.”

 

“Fuck all y’all. Look here, there’s _chocolate_.” Michonne slung off her pack and her katana. It hit the floor with a crash. She stood there with one hand on her hip and the other holding up six chocolate bars like a deck of cards. She clearly wasn’t going anywhere.

 

Well, shit. Rick knew when he was beat. “Looks like I’m the minority.” Rick scratched his beard. “Guess we should see about cleanin’ up the mess on the stairs.”

 

“I’ll do it!” Carl zipped around a little manically. Rick frowned, briefly meeting Michonne’s eyes. She nodded. It was clear to both of them that this amount of energy was... off.

 

Rick walked over to the water barrels. The smaller barrel was marked ‘clean’ as were two of the larger barrels. Rick could see how they’d rigged it: water from the rain went into one barrel, then that was filtered into the next, and the next, and so forth. They’d even built something on the outside that would hold the hose steady, so the runoff from the roof and gutters would fall right into the hose.  

 

“I think I’m gonna go hunting. Some fresh meat would be good.”

 

“Alright.” Rick found a shovel near the door and lifted the bar so he could leave without going through the mess that Carl had made on the steps of the basement and the top floor. He left Carl and Michonne in the cabin.  Rick wanted to put these people in the ground properly. It seemed like the least he could do. He took off the borrowed plaid shirt and hung it on a branch near the back of the yard, near the tree line.  

 

From the back of the house, the outside exit to the basement was almost hidden. Rick had left the door open; both for light and to help the place air out, but the other side had grass growing and kudzu on it. There were a couple other places where the plants had been carefully tended as camouflage to the basement windows. Shit. These people had survived here for awhile.

 

Rick ignored his growling stomach and the slight dizziness, knowing that if he stopped now, Daryl or Michonne... or hell, even Carl, would start up with their nagging again.  It was annoying. Sure, he’d reacted a little.... feral after killing Joe and that fucking piece of shit Dan, but he wasn’t an invalid. Anyone would have been a little shaken. He didn’t have a damn concussion. The dizziness was just from him bein’ tired. As soon as he cleaned up a bit and got some real sleep, he’d be just fine.

 

It was more important that he do something decent for the people that had died here.  Rick knew that he couldn’t possibly dig a separate grave for all of them, but he could enlarge the shallow grave they’d already dug. Maybe they’d like that. Bein’ together. Shit, Rick didn’t know. At least then no animals would be at them. He stuck the shovel in and started, and after that it was easy. Rick lost himself in the repetitive movement. Carl came out once to make him drink a cup of water, but other than that Rick worked alone, steadily, until he could put them to rest somewhat more decently then a couple of branches and a divot of dirt.

 

“What the _fuck_ are you doin’?”

 

Rick jumped, spinning with the shovel, ready to attack. Daryl stood there with three rabbits, glaring at him. He looked beyond pissed, almost ready to punch Rick in the face.  

 

Rick blinked, then scratched at his head with his forearm. He only had a few more shovelfuls to go. “What?” He didn’t mean to sound defensive, but Daryl’s ferocity startled him.

 

“I’ve been gone for five fuckin’ hours. Have you been out here that whole time?”

 

Rick was beginning to get a little irked as well. “So what if I have? Someone had to.”

 

“Then you _wait_ or get me’n Michonne to help. Jesus fuck, Rick. You took at least two knocks to the head. Don’tcha know what the hell ‘take it easy’ means?”

 

Rick threw aside the shovel, ignoring the way everything tilted and swam. He brushed by Daryl, too pissed to see straight. He was completely shocked when Daryl grabbed his arm, swinging him around so that they were face to face.

 

“Let go of me.” Rick’s voice was low, dropped to a furious register that he didn’t often use.

 

“Or what? You’ll fall over on me? Look at yourself, man. You’ve been out here for fuckin’ hours, covered in dirt, and you ain’t even sweating. You know what that is? It’s called _dehydration_ , you stupid shit! This ain’t like you, man. It’s like you’re _tryin’_ to hurt yoursel--” Daryl stopped so suddenly Rick was surprised he didn’t bite his tongue.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Daryl let go of his arm, staring at him with his head cocked. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Rick--”

 

“I said shut _up_. Rick grabbed his shirt and walked to the basement. door. Now that Daryl pointed it out, he was aware that his shoulders were a little burnt, and he wasn’t sweaty at all. His lips were chapped something fierce, in fact. He did completely reek though.  Rick heard Daryl come up behind him, and paused when he blocked Rick’s way with his crossbow.

 

“I’ll hush now, if you promise to talk to me later.”

 

Rick would rather pick maggots off a walker than talk to Daryl about what he’d done, but he also knew that they couldn’t go on like this. Not if they were gonna work together. Shit, balls, _fuck_. “Fine. Later.”

 

Daryl nodded, and let Rick go down the steps into the basement, closing and latching the door behind them. Michonne sat on one of the chairs, bouncing a ball off the wall with a muted _thwack_ , _thwack_ , _thwack_.  Carl had his nose stuck in a book, absorbed in a way that fairly screamed that he hadn’t been reading until Rick and Daryl started to walk down the steps. “Hmm. So, here’s what’s gonna happen. Rick is gonna take a bath. You smell like one of them damn walkers.” She caught the ball and pointed it to Rick. “You’re gonna sit in that water and soak for a bit. We got enough to spare, and you look like a piece of jerky.” She turned to stare at Daryl. “And you. Carl needs to skin those rabbits, and you look just like the guy to supervise that.” Her smile turned a little more smirky. “And I, I am gonna sit here on my ass and go back to my nap. Someone let me know when dinner’s done.” She tossed the ball to Rick, who fumbled a bit before catching it. He sighed the sigh of a man who knew he’d fucked up.

 

Daryl looked from Michonne to Rick and back to Michonne before shrugging. “Let me check the flue. Come on, kid.”

 

Carl cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “I can... cook. Carol showed me how to not burn the meat.”

 

“Awesome.”  Daryl and Carl walked towards the stairs.

 

Rick opened his mouth.

 

Michonne held up her index finger.  “Aaah, no.  Don’t even start. There’s a tub they used. I already filled it for you. There’s soap and towels next to it.”

 

“You just want a peek at my ass.”

 

There was a clatter on the stairs, as though someone had missed a step.  Michonne snorted.  “Oh please. Like your ass is a great mystery.”

 

Rick laughed a little and kicked off his boots. He toed off the hideous socks and pushed them off to the side. He unhooked his gunbelt and took off his knife sheath. He set them to the side where the water had no chance of reaching them, then winced when he started to pull off his jeans. _Ugh._  The blood that had been caked on had dried, and cemented the denim to Rick’s skin. Pulling them off felt like he was getting waxed. Shit. Well, there was no helping it. Rick yanked and managed to keep his agony to a very manly squeak of pain.

 

“Wuss.” Michonne muttered.

 

Rick ignored her, dipping the smaller towel into the water. The tub looked more like a giant beer keg. It was big enough for him to sit in, but he was tall enough that knees would stick up out of the water. Plus, he didn’t much fancy sitting in the filthy water. Rick looked around and saw that Michonne had anticipated that, too. There was a smaller bin for him to sponge the worst of it off, then he could sit in the tub.

 

Rick had to empty the water twice. It felt horribly wasteful, but there was no way that they could drink all that water in the small amount of time that they’d be here. He dumped it and refilled it once more for his hair and beard, then stepped up and into the tub.  Rick sighed and draped his arms over the side, crossing them so he could rest his chin on his wrist.  He must have dozed a little because it seemed as though a few blinks later Michonne was shaking his shoulder.

 

“Come on, pruny. Carl’s got dinner ready.”

 

Rick made his way out, startled that he needed Michonne’s help to get into the sweats she’d found.  His filthy clothes had disappeared, as had the dirty water. Rick frowned, knowing that there was something wrong with him not realizing that someone had gotten that close to him, but was too exhausted to put his finger on it.  They made their way upstairs.

 

Daryl was already eating. Carl was hovering nervously, then went to get Rick a bowl. Rick was surprised to see that they had shut up the doors and windows for the night. Daryl had rigged a simple sound trap on the door, and had set enough things in front of the windows that anything coming through would sound like herd of elephants. The small hurricane lamp was their only source of light.

 

“Here. It’s stew--ish. There’s lots.”

 

Rick smiled. Carl looked so hopeful. Rick grinned and ruffled his hair, taking his bowl and setting in.  They all ate hugely, stuffing themselves. The rabbit was gamey and a little greasy, but with the veggies it tasted like the best thing Rick had eaten in a long goddamn time. They had water to drink, and Michonne graciously doled out a bar of chocolate for each of them. By then Rick was blinking with longer and longer blinks, losing whole stretches of conversation.

 

“Well, seems like the least I can do is help you clean up, especially after you cooked such a fine meal.” Michonne smiled at Carl who also looked like he was ready to fall face first onto his bed.

 

“‘Kay. I call the loft.”

 

Michonne snorted. “Pshh. There’s two beds up there, kid. You ain’t getting rid of me that easily.”

 

Rick yawned so hard his jaw cracked. “I better get downstairs, or I’m gonna fall asleep.” He looked at Daryl and frowned a little. “Uh. I know I said--”

 

“Naw. It’s fine. You go ahead. I’ve some stuff to do anyway.” Daryl’s smile did funny things to Rick’s gut. _Shit. He really_ was _tired._

 

Rick said his goodnights and made his way back to the basement.  He was dead asleep two minutes later.

 

* * *

 

Rick woke to the sound of water splashing. He came awake all at once in the way they’d all learned to do, turning only his head towards the water area. He listened carefully.  The only sound from upstairs was from Carl snoring. For such a skinny kid, it amazed him that Carl sounded like he was sleeping off a bender.  

 

Rick took stock of his body. He was sore, and his muscles were a little tight in the way they got when they were overworked, but overall he felt... much better.

 

The water splashed again and Rick turned his head to see.  Rick screwed his eyes shut almost immediately, but he was afraid that the image was burned into his retinas forever.

 

He almost swallowed his tongue.  

 

Rick looked right when Daryl was raising a cup to wash his hair. Daryl had brought the hurricane lamp down with him, but had turned it down, likely so he wouldn’t bother Rick.  His body was backlit by the lamp. Daryl’s hair dangled down his neck, and the water had spilled down the middle of his back.  It looked like it had been sculpted out of muscle and sinew. Months and months of hard living and unreliable nutrition had gotten rid of whatever fat he’d had. Daryl had a tattoo of a demon on his back, and it almost seemed to jump and move with the movement of the muscles under his skin. Rick could see the sheen of water reflecting in the lamplight, and each trickle of water seemed to follow its own path back into the tub.

 

Well, perhaps he didn’t squeeze his eyes shut _right_ away.

 

He realized that he was verging on creepy. He was also verging on asphyxiation. Rick sucked in a deep breath that sounded a little like his lungs collapsing.

 

The sounds of the water stopped, like Daryl was listening. Rick felt like a fool, but he faked sleeping, embarrassed and flustered at his reaction.  This was...new. Terrifying. They’d all learned that privacy was a rare and beautiful thing, so he’d seen Daryl naked before, just as Daryl had seen him, but Rick had never ... _noticed_ before. He was glad that he was faced down on the mattress. Daryl was pretty observant, and Rick’s hardon under his sweats was pretty damn obvious. This was so beyond inappropriate.

 

Daryl waited a good few minutes. Rick could picture him with his head cocked as he listened.  Eventually, Daryl finished his bath.  Rick listened to him as he stood up. Heard him curse as he apparently knocked his knee on the rim of the tub, then the sound of cloth and footsteps. Rick kept his body face down, but moved so he could blink up at Daryl.  He didn’t expect the light to be out, so it took a few seconds for Rick’s eyes to adjust.

 

He felt more than saw Daryl lie down on the mattress next to him.  

 

“Hey.” Rick whispered, still trying to tell his body that just because it was warm and full and pretty much content, it did not mean that its recently rediscovered libido had to make an appearance.

 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“No problem.”

 

There was an awkward silence. Rick belatedly realized that he was _only_ wearing a pair of sweats and tensed.

 

“How are you doin’?”

 

Rick huffed. “Which part? The head injury, the part where I ripped out some guy’s throat, or the part where I--” The darkness made it easier to say. He’d been dicking around, keeping the words locked up in his own head. Rick forced himself to start over.  ”D’you believe in karma, Daryl? ‘Cuz I didn’t ‘til real recently.”

 

Daryl inhaled, as though he was going to respond, but Rick talked over him. He was still whispering, but knew Daryl could hear him just fine.

 

“When I was sittin’ on my ass, covered in blood, I couldn’t stop shaking. Not ‘cuz of what I did. Well, not completely. But I realized that... that what happened to Carl.” His voice cracked. “What happened to my boy was ‘cuz... of me forcin’ you. That sayin’ about karma being a bit--”

 

“Wait.”  There was a flurry of sound while Daryl rolled over and sat up. Rick flinched when he felt Daryl’s hand press lightly over his shoulder.  “ _Wait_.” The word was a garbled wreck of sound.  “No. No, that’s not what happened at _all_.”

 

Rick jerked away, moving back so that his back was against the wall. “What the hell are you talking about? I was _there_.”

 

“Yeah, well I was there too. And if anyone here forced anyone else it was me! Jesus fuck, is that what you were thinking this whole damn time?”

 

Rick held up his hand. His heartbeat was crazy in his chest. “Hold up. I was with them. I saw you, and did that stupid-ass claiming thing. Then I smacked you around a little---”

 

“--because I _told_ you to! If you didn’t look strong then they woulda--”

 

Rick ignored him. He was going over everything in his memory, now that he’d given his brain permission. “--Then they were fucking with you. Joe said that if I didn’t then they would---.”

 

“The fuck they would! Rick, man I have like six knives on me. The only reason I didn’t go for them when those two jumped me was because I was afraid what Joe’d do to you and ‘Chonne.”

 

Rick blinked a little rapidly. His mind seemed to freeze on the fact that Daryl seemed to think, to adamantly believe that Rick was not at fault here.

 

“Len told me that if I didn’t give him a show then he’d slit your throat. You were exhausted. You kept staggerin’ and your eye would go funny when you weren’t concentrating. Concussion, man. You think I don’t know what that looks like? Shit.” Daryl sounded both furious and disgusted.

 

Rick’s eyes had adjusted enough that he could see that Daryl was kneeling with one knee on his mattress, his other knee on Rick’s mattress, facing Rick as he spoke. His hands were clenched into fists at his side.  When he spoke it was a hissed whisper through gritted teeth. “So _I_ came at _you_. Head injury an’ all. Hell you weren’t even hard ‘til I made you.”

 

“But...”

 

“But _nothin_ ’. That... none of that was on you.” Daryl licked his lips, like he was nervous.

 

Rick went back to blinking. That seemed to be working fine for him. The stone of the basement was cold against his back, and Daryl seemed awfully close.

 

Rick couldn’t seem to look away from Daryl’s mouth.

 

Daryl lowered his voice so that it was a bare hint of sound. “Fuck, man. If I had any idea that was what you were thinkin’, I would have apologized earlier.” Daryl’s eyes glinted in the miniscule amount of moonlight that filtered into the partially uncovered window. “I’m... I’m sorry I took advantage of you. I was scared shitless that you’d pass out or something and they’d off you. I...” “I’d just lost Carol. And Beth. I couldn’t--”

 

Carl’s scream cut through the air.

 

Daryl had jerked away from him and dove for his crossbow.

 

“Carl!” Rick sprung up and ran, tripping over Daryl’s mattress but catching himself. He hardly paused, running up the stairs two at a time. Carl was screaming as quickly as he could draw breath.

 

Rick didn’t realize that he didn’t have a weapon until Daryl hollered, “Rick!” and tossed him a knife.

 

Rick made it to the loft ladder three steps ahead of Daryl and scrambled up. “Carl! _Carl_!”

 

Even with his eyes adjusted to the dark of the cabin, what Rick saw didn’t make sense.  Michonne was crouched in the corner of the loft, with both of her hands up. Carl had wedged himself into the opposite corner so that he was as small as possible. He was holding a knife with hands that trembled. Carl’s voice cracked when he drew breath to scream again.

 

“ _Carl_!” Rick reached forward and Carl slashed at him with the knife. Rick jerked his hand back and almost lost his balance in shock. He crawled up onto the loft so that he was by Michonne and tried talking, hoping that his voice would snap him out of it.

 

“Come on, Carl. Come on, hon.” Rick tried to get closer but Carl jabbed at him again. The screams were softer now that his voice had broken, but that somehow made them sound worse. He heard Daryl curse and scramble down the ladder, but continued trying to talk to Carl, to calm him down.

 

Daryl was back quickly and before Rick could warn him, he tossed a pot of water on Carl.

 

It worked.

 

Rick saw Carl jolt back to himself, looking down at his hand with the knife with a startled jerk of his head, then his gaze locked on Michonne. “M-m-m- _M’chonne._ ” His eyes were very white in the darkness.

 

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m fine.” Her voice was impossibly gentle. There was a glint of blood on her nose, like Carl had flailed at her during the night terror.

 

“Carl?” Rick kept his voice just as soft, speaking to him like he would a spooked animal.

 

“He. He was on top of me. But you were dead. You both were dead and he wouldn’t... He.” Carl’s words tumbled out after one another so quickly that they slurred together.

 

“Hey, kid. Let’s get you dried off.” Daryl’s voice was gruff. “Didn’t mean to give you a shower like that.” Carl stared at Daryl with his lips trembling. Daryl cast a panicked glance at Rick, then slowly reached out his hand to Carl, like he didn’t know what he was doing. “C’mon, now. You’re okay. No one’s mad at’cha, okay? Not Michonne and not your Dad.”

 

Carl jerked again then nodded shakily. He didn’t cry, but was trembling so badly that Rick was afraid he’d fall. Daryl went down first, then Carl, then Michonne, then Rick. He tossed the blankets and pillows down, then thought for a second before pushing the smaller mattress down.

 

“I think we should all stay downstairs.”

 

Carl had wrapped his arms around himself, but nodded.  By the time Rick wrestled the mattress and bedclothes downstairs, Daryl had lit the lamp and turned it up to full brightness. Rick arranged the mattresses so the tops of them made a triangle.

 

Carl went right to Rick’s mattress and curled up. The three adults looked at each other. Before they could say anything, Carl’s voice piped up. “I’m.... sorry.”  His voice was a shamed whisper.

 

Michonne spoke, lying down on the mattress near Carl. “Now, none of that. You heard Daryl. We ain’t mad. Was my own damn fault for getting my face in your way.” She looked at Rick who stood there, unsure if he should go to Carl or not. “He only started screamin’ when he hit me. Was an accident.”  Rick nodded. Daryl walked quietly around, gathering up their weapons and putting them in the triangle where the tops of the mattresses touched.

 

“Dad? Will you share with me?”

 

Rick winced, not sure if having a body next to him if he woke up suddenly again was what Carl needed.

 

“Yeah. ‘Course I will.” Rick snagged one of the blankets for himself, and another for Carl. Michonne grabbed his wrist, tossing him a shirt. Rick put on the t-shirt with smile of thanks. He saw Daryl rigging another sound trap on the basement door, then checking the outside door and windows while Rick made himself comfortable.

 

Eventually though, Daryl put out the light and there was the sounds of everyone settling in for the night. Michonne was on the mattress to Carl’s left, and Daryl to Rick’s right.

 

“Dad?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Thanks for killin’ that guy. I’m glad he’s dead.”

 

Rick glared in the darkness, fury making his waning adrenaline spike. “Yeah. Me too. I’d gut him again if I could.”

 

Carl nodded sleepily, still facing the wall. “I heard you and Daryl talkin’. This morning, I mean. You said you’d do anything to keep me safe.”

 

Rick nodded, then realized he was nodding in almost perfect darkness like a moron, and spoke up. “Yeah. I would. Any of us would.”

 

There were a few minutes of silence. “I guess when you made Carol leave, you were doin’ the same thing. Keeping the rest of us safe.” Carl yawned. “I miss her though. She would have made the dinner taste better. I miss Maggie and Glenn too. D’ya think we’ll see them soon?”

 

Rick’s eyes popped open in the darkness, his heart starting to beat crazily in his chest. He was very, very aware of the sudden stillness to his right.  

 

“Yeah, I do.” That was true enough. They might spend another night here, but for the most part they were good to go. They could find this Terminus and see what they could see. Maybe it would work out. Christ knew they were about due for a break.

 

“---Th’ks.  G’night, dad.” Carl sounded like he was almost back down into sleep.

 

“Night, Carl.”

 

It was quiet. The cabin occasionally made a sound as something settled, and there was one hoot of an owl, but other than that things were very quiet. When Daryl didn’t say anything about Carl’s revelation, Rick began to relax in very slow increments, until he too fell back asleep.

  
  
  


* * *

TBC!   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter. 
> 
> Sorry it took so long to get Daryl's side of what happened. As you can see, there are some plotty things ahead, and no. I wasn't kidding when the tag said 'slow build'. Glaciers will melt and reform before these two figure their shit out.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, and don't be afraid to tell me what you think in the comments! I wont bite. Much.


	8. Chapter 8

Rick woke up slowly.

 

Waking up slowly was a luxury. Instead of going from dead asleep to awake because of some emergency or another, he could wake up at his own pace. Rick slowly became aware of his surroundings. When he opened his eyes, Carl was- as usual- sprawled across the mattress. For once he wasn’t snoring, instead making these little huff-weeze sounds that made Rick smile a little goofily. It was still gloomy in the basement. He had no idea what time it was, but could hear the grumble of thunder in the distance. He was so comfortable that almost slid back into sleep.

 

Rick’s sleep-stupid brain took a few seconds to clue into the fact that the mattress he had started on when they’d gone to bed was not the mattress he was currently occupying.

 

It was about that time that Rick realized that there was a warm weight across his stomach, and an even warmer weight at his back. Soft, steady breaths on the back of his neck caused his skin to tingle with awareness. Any sleepiness fled in a heartbeat. He froze, then tried to jerk away on pure reflex. Daryl made an unhappy sound, tightening his arm around Rick. Rick sucked in a sharp breath when Daryl moved even closer, fitting himself in the space behind Rick, big spoon to Rick’s little spoon. Daryl made a snuffly noise and burrowed his nose into the junction of Rick’s shoulder and neck. His nose was cold.

 

Once Rick realized that that Daryl was actually dead asleep, he was able to relax a little. He’d never realized that Daryl Dixon was much of a cuddler, really. He was also putting out heat like a small furnace. Immediately following that thought was that of _who_ exactly had Daryl been practicing cuddling with. Rick was ashamed at the surge of jealousy he felt. Daryl for damn sure wasn’t his (in any sense of the word) and he certainly had no claim on whomever Daryl chose to sleep with. Or, cuddle with. Rick narrowed his eyes as he thought. This was the second time in two days that he’d been jealous over something Daryl may or may not have even done. He needed to fuckin’ stop. It wasn’t his place.

 

Rick’s relaxed as he realized that for all that it was intimate, it was also innocent. It was... nice, really. To wake up with someone. After Lori had confessed about Shane, he and his wife hadn’t really shared a bed together.  Oh, sure. He did understand how something like that could happen. And most of him didn’t really even blame Lori for turning to his best friend; hell. They’d gotten Carl out and kept him safe, and Rick would always be grateful for that, despite the fact that they’d managed to carve out time to fuck around in the woods.  

 

Still though, knowing that Lori had betrayed him, even though she’d called it quits as soon as Rick had made it back to them had made it hard to trust. After the farm, everyone  (well except for Glenn and Maggie for obvious reasons) had tended to sleep in great big puppy piles where ever they camped. Rick and Lori had just never.. shared blankets. It was just easier to bunk down next to Carl or on the edge of the pile somewhere on the rare times that he didn’t take first watch.  Come to think of it, that was also the first time he and Daryl had started to really work together. With herds of walkers shambling around, the group had voted on two-person watches, twice a night.  It had always been him and Daryl together, with either Glenn and Maggie or Glenn and T-Dogg taking the second shift.

 

Daryl muttered under his breath and his arm tightened around Rick’s waist. Rick winced, a little nervous about what would happen if either Carl or Michonne woke up and saw them. Rick gently covered Daryl’s wrist with his own, meaning to lift it up.  At Rick’s touch though, Daryl snatched his arm back with a sucked in gasp of air, waking instantly. They were both silent for a heartbeat, then Daryl rolled over onto his other side with a low, “Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine.” Rick stretched and sat up, scratching at his beard. Michonne looked up at him with one eye open then flopped back down onto her mattress with a swish of her hair. Rick had to grin. It looked like no one was all that interested jumping out of bed. Rick grabbed his knife and gunbelt then went over to the pile of clothes that Michonne and Carl had sorted the day before.  

 

He found a pair of jeans that were only a little big on him, a rolled up pair of blissfully clean white socks, a grey t-shirt, and a rather nice leather jacket with a fur collar. In the old days, it would have gone for three hundred dollars. Now, it looked suitably beat up, but was a helluva lot nicer than anything he currently had- especially since he was pretty sure Michonne had burned the bloody, filthy clothes he’d come here in. He still wasn’t ready to wear some poor dead guy’s tighty whities though, and got dressed without them.

 

“Damn, son. “Cover that up, before we’re all struck blind.” Michonne’s teasing whisper floated up out of the semi-darkness. Rick wasn’t sure if she was commenting on the fact his ass was pretty damn fine (as far as asses went, he supposed) or on  the pasty whitness (she’d once said they could use his butt in place of the moon if they were ever hard up for light). He was kind of terrified to ask, come to think of it.

 

Rick flipped her off good naturedly and Michonne snorted. She flopped back down and settled in, obviously going back to sleep.

 

Rick rolled his eyes, slid on his boots and made his way upstairs as quietly as he could. He was careful to disarm the trap Daryl had put in front of the door, lowering the empty bottles with a muffled clank. He opened the basement door and closed it softly behind him. The thunder was still growling, but Rick couldn’t hear any rain.  He opened the shutters on the window, blinking a little at the sudden light.  It was quite a bit later than he thought, but it was difficult to tell with the cloud cover.

 

He opened up what he could, letting in some of the cooler air. He could see the deterius from where they’d eaten still strewn about. He set about  straightening up, opening the flue and found some oatmeal and peaches someone had set out last night. Well, shit. Even he could manage that. Rick saw that either the previous owners or Michonne and Carl had set aside just enough firewood to make a fire. He had to be careful enough to make sure it wasn’t too smoky, but it also had to be hot enough to actually cook the stuff.

 

Rick heard the basement door open, and Carl poked his head through. All at once Rick had the weirdest sense of deja vu; it was any other morning, and Rick had to make Carl his breakfast before he went to school. Then he blinked, and the memory dissipated. The cut on Carl’s face looked a lot better, but it was still red and scabbed over.

 

“You hungry?”

 

“I gotta pee.”

 

Rick nodded. “Just a sec.” As awkward as it was, none of them allowed the younger members of their party to go off by themselves, even just to pee.  It hadn’t been as much of an issue in the prison, but Car and Beth had both known the rules for when they were on the road. Rick smiled a little to see that they had stuck, even this much later. They went outside for a quick perimeter check and did their thing against one of the trees in the front.  

 

“You sleep okay?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Carl muttered. “It was just a stupid dream.”

 

“Carl--”

 

“I _said_ I don’t want to talk about it! _Jesus_!” Carl turned and walked inside.

 

Rick sighed. Carl had all the reason in the world, but it would have been nice to avoid the angsty teenager for awhile longer. By the time Rick made his way back inside, both Michonne and Daryl were awake.

 

“--prefer to get goin’.”

 

“I think we’d benefit from spending the rest of the day here. Get another good night’s sleep. We can get going at daylight, tomorrow. What do you think, Rick?”

 

Rick looked from Michonne to Daryl. Michonne’s face looked peaceful, Daryl wouldn't meet his eyes.  “Uh.” He looked around for Carl. “I’m good for either. I feel better, but I think we can all use the rest. Y’all hungry?”

 

“Well, in that case, I’m gonna enjoy a hot bath. You guys get what you need, and after dinner we’re goin’ old school and warming up some of that water. Carl’s downstairs.”

 

Rick watched as Daryl’s mouth tightened. Daryl got up and left the cabin. Michonne whistled.  “That doesn’t look good. You think it’s cuz of what Carl said?”

 

Rick nodded and set about making breakfast. It wasn’t so much what Carl said, as the fact that Rick had done it in the first place, but there was no denying Daryl was seriously pissed off.

 

The rest of the day passed by doing chores and resting.  Rick found that staying inside was making him nervous. He decided to drag a chair outside. Ostensibly he was cleaning his gun, but he found himself just taking in the relative quiet. Daryl came back a little later and they both helped Michonne and Carl with hot water for their bath.  Rick tried not to notice that Daryl still wouldn’t look at him, and was still mad enough to respond only in monosyllables when spoken to. Daryl escaped again into the woods not too long after. Carl and Michonne practiced knife throwing while Rick put together packs for all of them. He found a blue duffel bag, and cleaned the rest of their weapons.  He had enough that he could put ammo in each pack, with the bulk of it in the duffle.

 

He hit the jackpot with supplies. He’d found actual lighter fluid for an ancient (but still working) Zippo lighter, a fairly substantial first-aid kit, and miracle of miracles... some toothpaste. Rick made sure to snag the water purification tablets (boiling was still best, but they worked well in a pinch), a small portable shovel, and a small coil of rope. There were plenty of canned goods, but also quite a bit of jerky. The jerky would travel better, and it was imperative that their packs not slow them down. Rick frowned then put a few cans in each pack. He filled a water bottle for each, then added a half dozen extra in the blue duffle. He heaved the weight of it then added a few more cans.

 

Rick looked around the basement with a small frown. While the amount of supplies might have seemed dire to the people who’d lived here before them, to their little group of four it was practically a palace. He sighed,  then carried the whole mess upstairs to put by the door.

 

“I hate to sound like a broken record, but what’s on the menu for tonight? I think my belly is getting used to this regular meal stuff again.”  

 

Rick shrugged. “I dunno.”

 

“You seen Daryl?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, don’t freak out okay? He’s fine.” Michonne set about opening some cans.

 

Rick looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

 

Michonne just shrugged. Carl appeared out of nowhere and washed up to help. Michonne laughed. “Boy, you’re like a cat with a can opener.” She nudged him good naturedly with her shoulder.

 

Carl didn’t laugh as expected. He smiled a little, shrugging. “I like to cook.”

 

Rick tried not to tense when Daryl walked through the door. He threw down his crossbow with a lot less care than he usually took, then kicked the door shut behind him.

 

“Daryl---”

 

Daryl turned, glaring.  “What,” he barked out.  Rick noticed that both Carl and Michonne stilled, watching the two of them avidly.

 

“You, uh. You were gone all day.”

 

Daryl picked up the board to block off the door and set it in place. “So?”

 

Rick frowned. “So.. that was reckless. You could have--”

 

Daryl’s lips twisted into a mean-looking smirk. “What, Rick. I do something you don’t like so you’re gonna kick my ass out too?”

 

Rick actually took a step back, blinking in shock. “That’s not-- I didn’t--”

 

Daryl didn’t seem to care that he didn’t have the whole story, or that his words were hitting Rick like punches.  “Oh shut the fuck up. I’m grown. If I want to go out for a coupla hours, I will.”  Daryl turned and set the sound trap. He stomped downstairs, slamming the door behind him.

 

“Shii--it.” Carl looked from Rick to the basement door and back to Rick. “You didn’t tell him why?”

 

Rick shook his head. “Didn’t get a chance.”

 

Michonne tested the food with a spoon. “Can’t help but think that was a bit of an oversight, on second thought.”

 

 _Yeah, no shit._ Rick sighed. “I’ll... talk to him. Maybe give him some time to cool down.” Michonne’s shrug seemed to indicate that it was Rick’s funeral.

 

Daryl being pissed put a damper on their evening. He didn’t come back upstairs until they had finished eating.  Rick had left one window barely open, just so they’d have a tiny bit of light to see by. Michonne had left a small bowl of food for him, covered to keep it warm since they’d extinguished the fire. Daryl walked straight to the loft and threw his ratty blanket up, following it with a few jerky movements of his body.

 

Michonne and Carl went downstairs to play cards, and Rick followed them. He wanted to give Daryl some time to settle. Either way is was perfectly obvious that Daryl had no intention of sleeping downstairs with them. Rick was surprised by how much the rejection hurt. Disgust followed soon after. He had no business being hurt by this. Rick held out for a couple of hours, waited until Carl and Michonne had bedded down for the night before making his slow, careful way upstairs.

 

Rick couldn’t see Daryl from where he stood, but he could see that the food was gone. He sighed, pinching the top of his nose as the basement door shut with a soft click. Rick cleared his throat. “I owe you an explanation.You got every right to be pissed, but I want to explain. She killed two of our own, Daryl. I couldn’t have her be there. At the prison. Not with all the kids.”

 

“The hell she did!” It was a furious, choked whisper.

 

“She did it. Told me herself. And it was for nothin’. People still got sick. She said it was for us. That was in her head. She wasn’t sorry, Daryl. She killed those two in cold blood.” Rick cleared his throat, still guilty after all this time. “I just... there were kids there, Daryl.” He waited a few seconds until he could speak without his voice betraying him.  “She’s going to be alright. I made sure that she had a car…supplies…weapons. She’s a survivor. She’ll be fine.” Rick told himself that as much as Daryl, that he hadn’t signed her death warrant putting a woman out by herself. A survivor or not, woman or not, being alone was what was dangerous in this world.

 

“Well, that ain’t her.”

 

“But it was, Daryl. It _was_ her.”

 

Daryl snorted. “That’s some fuckin’ irony right there. You put her out of our home ‘cuz she killed to protect the rest of us, when you took Joe’s throat out for the same damn th-.” Daryl stopped himself.

 

Silence hung in the room.

 

“I know,” Rick whispered, sickened with himself. “I’m .....sorry,” He rasped. Rick wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for: Carol Joe? Daryl?  He’d fucked up so much. Daryl was right to call him on it.  He shouldn’t be up here. He was going to do something stupid if he did, like beg Daryl to take  it back, to forgive him.  Rick fumbled for the doorknob of the basement, shutting it behind him softly and making his stiff way to his mattress.

 

“Hey.” Michonne’s whisper floated up out of the darkness. “You cool?”

 

Rick lay there, blinking into the inky blackness of the night, trying to ignore the prickly feeling behind his eyes and the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he managed.  The terrifying thing was, Rick knew Daryl might actually leave over this.  He’d left once before with Merle.  Carol wasn’t his blood, but the two of them were close.  Hell, Daryl’d known her longer than he’d known Rick when it came right down to it.  

 

Rick’s throat tightened. He took a shaky breath. Sleep, when it came was fitful and unsatifying.

 

TBC!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know that the four seconds of Rick telling Daryl what he did to Carol actually happened in the prison, but as you can see I’m playing a little fast and loose with the timing. *salutes*.


	9. Chapter 9

They got started at first light. Rick ignored the way his heart gave a funny leap when he heard Daryl moving around upstairs. It didn’t take long to gather their belongings and head out.

 

Rick saw Carl look behind him as they once again travelled through the kudzu.

 

“You think this place will be here if we come back?”

 

Rick cleared his throat. “Maybe. Either for us or for someone, I guess.”

 

Carl nodded and hitched his backpack up a little further on his back. They were quiet as they head out, walking with Michonne and Rick in front, then Daryl and Carl in the back.  Rick had to force himself not to turn back and check on his son or Daryl every few feet, but this was pretty much the only way the two of them could distance themselves from him without it being too dangerous.

 

The day was peaceful, if a tiny bit chilly. The fall morning was cool enough that they all needed jackets, even with carrying their packs.  Carl was strangely quiet, so much that not even Michonne could get him out of the mood he was in.  They stopped for a mid-afternoon meal, knowing that they were back on road rations.  They didn’t stop long, wanting to get back on the road.

 

He wasn’t sure what made her ask, but it startled Rick out of his daze. The woods, the fallen tree leaves, the train tracks, Rick had found himself just plodding along with one foot in front of the other.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah. I'm okay.”  Rick blinked, nudging Michonne with his shoulder, simply grateful that someone wasn’t pissed at him.

 

“I know.” She was smug, teasing, like any other sister would be.

 

“How?”  Rick was honestly baffled. They hadn’t really talked about it, but ‘okay’ had a lot of damn meaning, given the past few days.

 

“‘Cause I'm okay, too.”

 

Rick couldn’t help the small smile he gave her when she nudged his shoulder back. He wanted to give her a damn hug or something, but he didn’t know which of the two of them would make it through the experience. Michonne was not the hugging type.  Rick figured they’d gone at least twenty miles, all told by the time he saw the sign half-buried in the leaves on the side of the road.

 

“We're getting close. Be there before sundown.”  Daryl’s voice caused Rick to jump a little. It was the first time he’d spoken to Rick all day.

 

“Now we head through the woods. We don't know who they are.”  It felt good to respond with some sort of decision, like maybe everything would be okay now that they had a purpose.

 

“All right.”

 

They walked for awhile until they saw the gates of some kind of compound. The four of them peeked through. It looked pretty large, and had been reinforced with wood and cinder blocks against walkers.  Large buildings were separated from each other by concrete pathways. At first glance, it looked like a warehouse of some sort.

 

“We all spread out, watch for a while, see what we see, and get ready. We all stay close.”

 

“You want to stick with me?” Rick asked, chancing a smile at Carl.

 

“It’s all right.” Carl walked off a way with Michonne. Rick tried to tell himself that it didn’t hurt, but it did, a little.  He heard Michonne ask Carl why he didn’t want to stick with his dad before their voices got softer. He sighed, watching them talk.

 

God, he didn’t know what he’d do without Michonne half the time. He knew that it had been her that had gotten Carl to quit lashing out while they’d been alone, right after the prison fell. And it was her, now, getting his son to talk.

 

“No one likes t’be pushed, Rick.” Daryl said, softly. “He’ll come around.” It was surprisingly insightful. Daryl wasn’t usually one to try to fix things like feelings. Usually he avoided those like the plague. Rick realized that Daryl had been doing quite a lot of fixing the past few days. He took a deep breath, ready to speak.

 

“Daryl, I’m sorry about--”

 

Daryl held up his hand. “Naw. Not right now.” He didn’t even sound mad, just incredibly exhausted. Rick winced.

 

“Alright.” He wanted to fix something- either him and Daryl or him and Carl, but maybe he should just... stop pushing. Daryl was right.

 

In the distance, Carl and Michonne hugged.  Rick blinked. Coming only a few minutes after his earlier thought, Rick had to shake his head. Apparently, given the right situation, Michonne was a hugger after all. Rick took the portable shovel and buried most of the stuff in their packs, along with the duffel bag.  He thought about it and took a less-fancy gun, instead of his beloved Colt.  “Just in case.” He told Daryl, who nodded in agreement. Daryl bent to add some stuff to their cache.

 

Daryl and Rick went off in the opposite direction to scout, then returned having found nothing to report.  They met back up with Michonne and Carl. Both Rick and Daryl were very careful to not remark on the tear tracks on either of the other’s cheeks.  “No guards. No walkers, either.” Daryl frowned. “What do you think?”

 

Carl tilted his hat back, squaring his shoulders. “Our people might be inside.” Michonne’s lips twitched at the seriousness of Carl’s tone... that, or the way he sounded just like Rick.

 

“Carl’s right. I think we should go, but go in smart.”

 

They buried the packs with Rick’s duffle, and Daryl’s extra crossbow bolts. Rick marked it, then made sure they could all find it again. From what they could see from their scouting, this Terminus looked pretty solid. Brick buildings, windows solidly boarded up.

 

They jumped the fence and made their way inside. Daryl took point, making sure the way was clear before jerking his head at Michonne and Carl. Rick took the building, then stopped short. They could all hear a monotonous woman’s voice, repeating the same message over and over.  Rick peeked in and saw an older woman talking into an old-fashioned radio. She looked like someone’s grandmother... if someone’s grandmother had a wicked looking AK-47 within reach on the table she sat at.

 

It might make him an asshole, but Rick kind of got a kick out of startling the woman speaking into the radio.

 

“Hello.”

 

Rick could feel the tension as soon as he walked in. Their footsteps echoed on the concrete. He didn’t miss that Carl was beside him, or that Daryl was next to Carl. Michonne was by the door. All of them were tense, waiting, but willing to follow Rick’s lead.

 

They ended up lining up in a perfect formation, staring at the dark-haired man as he walked forward. “Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch. You here to rob us?”  

 

“No. We wanted to see you before you saw us.” Rick saw no point in lying. He didn’t miss the way Carl, Michonne, and Daryl were all scanning the few people in the room, looking for someone they knew.

 

“Makes sense. Usually we do this where the tracks meet. Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “Welcome to Terminus. I'm Gareth. Looks like you've been on the road for a good bit.”

 

Rick’s eyes narrowed slightly. There was something... off. Not quite right. He wanted to stall, to see if he could put his finger on it. Cop instincts, even as rusty as they were, were blaring at him to watch... to take in what information he could.

 

“We have.”  Rick nodded.  “Rick. That's Carl, Daryl, Michonne.”

 

He didn’t miss the miniscule way Daryl tensed to his right.  

 

“You're nervous. I get it. We were all the same way. We came here for sanctuary. That what you're here for?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. You found it.” Gareth looked back to where an even friendlier looking guy was standing with a small smile on his face.  “Hey, Alex” He gestured. “This isn't as pretty as the front. We got nothing to hide, but the welcome wagon is a whole lot nicer.” Gareth grinned.  “Alex will take you, ask you a few questions. Uh, but first, we need to see everyone's weapons. If you could just lay them down in front of you. All right? I'm sure you understand.”

 

“Yes, I do.”

 

Gareth went to Rick first, Alex to Daryl. “I'd hate to see the other guy.” Alex’s voice sounded too cheerful, too chipper. It set off a steady wrongwrongwrongin Rick’s head.

 

“You would.” Daryl was cold, playing along. Rick had a moment of - _something_ \- when he saw Daryl telling him, Rick _, man I have like six knives on me_ in his mind’s eye, and knew, just _knew_ there was no way _this_ bozo would find any weapon that Daryl didn’t want him to find...before remembering that Daryl had stashed his weapons with Rick’s guns in the blue duffel.   _Shit._ Daryl met his eyes once and shook his head in the negative with a miniscule movement of his head, as though he knew what Rick was thinking.

 

“They deserve it?”  Alex was still trying to make awkward conversation.

 

“ _Yes_.” Carl speaking up in defense of Daryl, and by extension Rick shocked him so much that he jerked his gaze to Carl in surprise.

 

“Just so you know, we aren't those kind of people, but we aren't stupid either. And you shouldn't be stupid enough to try anything stupid. As long as everyone's clear on that, we shouldn't have any problems. Just solutions.”

 

Well _that_ sounded like the biggest load of bullshit ever shoveled in the history of bullshitting. Still, Rick wasn’t willing to do anything to tip the scales. He took in his surroundings as they walked around the front, listening to Michonne asking questions with half an ear. Somehow, seeing Daryl’s poncho, Glenn’s riot gear, Hershel’s watch and that goddamn orange backpack Carl had had to abandon at the prison had been the proverbial icing on the cake. He had Alex in a classic human shield maneuver, holding his weapon out before he could blink.

 

Rick had known it was going to go south as soon as Alex’s blood had sprayed from the head wound. Their sniper had been aiming for Rick and took a chance. A poor one, but Rick had no time to be grateful.  He heard Daryl’s scream of “Rick!” echoed by Carl’s “Dad!” a half second later, then they were on the move.  Once blood was drawn, they were pretty much fucked.

 

Afterwards, Rick would go through each action and reaction, attempting to figure out a way he could have gotten everyone out, but no. There was no chance. He, Carl, Michonne and Daryl were herded like sheep through Terminus, the residents using their familiarity with their turf to pull them from the main warehouse area to where several train cars were stacked up, through a maintenance area, and a storeroom of some sort. That emptied into a maze of boxcars and storage units.  It was Daryl that realized people were pounding on the metal walls they ran by, but the prisoner’s voices were indistinct over the sound of gunshots and Rick’s panic of trying to escape.

 

When the armed Terminus residents had cut off their escape, and Gareth tried to split Carl from Rick, he tried to beg, desperate for he and his son not to be separated.  He was helpless, and knew it. His eyes swam with frustrated, angry tears as he was forced to open that fucking boxcar, feeling each inch of distance between him and his son like a rope pulled too tight.

 

“I’ll go in with him!” Rick’s voice cracked.

 

Rick felt Daryl touch him once on his shoulder as they disappeared into the dark car. Rick’s shoulders tightened at the simple gesture.  Rick had never been so relieved as to hear Carl’s boot heels on the cement, walking closer and closer to them.  He didn’t know what clusterfuck awaited him, but he selfishly wanted Carl with him; _all_ of his people with him to figure it out together. The door shut behind him, and Rick had to check himself so that he wouldn’t hug Carl to him in sheer relief.

 

Feeling the boxcar shake when the Terminus people shut the door behind them was almost like a physical blow.

 

Hearing Glenn’s tentative, “Rick?” was another.  His gaze jumped to Maggie, Sasha and Bob. Beside him, Rick felt Daryl suck in a hopeful breath, only to exhale sharply when he saw that Beth wasn’t there in the boxcar with them.

 

“You’re here.” It was a whispered prayer of both thanks and desperation. Now they really were all stuck together.  There were new faces, indistinct in the darkness. Two men and two women.

 

Maggie, understanding immediately spoke for them. “They're our friends. They helped save us.”

 

Daryl responded, speaking for them all. “Now they're friends of ours.”

 

The big guy in the back responded with a sarcastic, “For however long that'll be.”

 

Rick still stood by the door, he had to turn away for a second, shaking. It did hurt remembering that they’d had such peaceful moments in the prison, and realizing that they might all end here--- no. No. _Fuck that._

 

When he spoke, his voice was the low, furious register he’d last used before gutting Dan. “They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out.”

 

The silence in the car was loud. Rick could feel the nervous stares bouncing around the room. Daryl was the only one willing (or brave enough) to ask, “Find out what?”

 

“That they're fucking with the wrong people.”

 

* * *

 

Time passed incredibly slowly.  They were excited to see one another, but the reunion was understandably subdued. The first few hours had been spent catching everyone up on what they’d gone through on their way from the prison, but eventually even that tapered off.

 

The boxcar, in a word, reeked.  The smell of fear, of shit and urine and rotten food made all of them disinclined to talk. There were several very small slits in the ceiling that allowed for airflow and some of the stench to recede, but they couldn’t do anything with the little glimpses of freedom.

  
They had clustered in the opposite end, pressed uncomfortably close as they waited for something to happen.

 

Rick sat with his back to the cold steel of the boxcar, his mind whirling with plans. He couldn’t help but make the unfortunate comparison to hamsters and wheels. Daryl and Carl flanked him on either side, with Michonne perpendicular, her feet tapping a nervous rhythm on the floor of the car.

 

Several hours later, there was a clunk and the sound of footsteps on the roof.  Rick felt Daryl tense beside him, and unthinkingly placed his hand on Daryl’s thigh.

 

“You guys know the drill. Red, you better tell Ringleader.”

 

Red- or, Abraham Rick had learned- the sarcastic guy, who even in the dark looked to be built like a brick shithouse in a way that fairly screamed military in red neon glitter letters twenty feet high, shouted up to the ceiling a furious “Fuck _you_!” He then looked over at Carl guiltily and muttered a low, “sorry.”

 

Carl snorted.

 

“We stay back. They lower some food. We try anything they shoot.” Abraham still looked towards the ceiling with the cornered look of a man who was thinking of taking his chances and damn the consequences.

 

“Got it in one, gorgeous. So no funny heroics, okay?”

 

Hearing Gareth’s words made Rick grit his teeth. He was aware that Carl grabbed his arm, and Michonne flung her legs out so that they were on top of his. Daryl just grabbed the wrist of the hand that was still on his thigh and squeezed a warning to keep him in place. In any other situation Rick would have laughed at the way all three of them had immediately thought to halt Rick’s reaction to that man.

 

The trapdoor opened and something was lowered down with a rope before dropped with a muffled _thud._

 

“Eat up!”

 

“Fuck _you!_ ” Carl yelled, throwing a double bird for good measure towards the ceiling.

 

“Hey, kid. You had your shot. Your daddy wanted you to go with him, so as far as I’m concerned, this is on you.” The trap door slammed shut with an echoing clang. There were footsteps and a larger thud as though someone jumped off the ceiling onto the ground.

 

“Sorry,” Carl muttered sotto voce to Abraham, who whooped a laugh in response.

 

Maggie and one of the other girls started to unpack the basket.  “She offered food to Carl first, but he just shook his head. “You guys go ahead. We just ate.”

 

Something Gareth said kept ricocheting around Rick’s brain. It didn’t make sense.  “What did he mean about Carl having a shot?”

 

Rick noticed that Abraham had given his food to the chubby, silent man who kept to himself, who then gave the food Abraham gave him to the girls, Rosa... something and Tara. Glenn did the same with Maggie, and Bob with Sasha. It was such a simple, sweet gesture... to take care of your dependents first, before you took food for yourself that Rick almost missed the fact that it gotten really quiet in the boxcar.

 

“What?” Michonne spoke softly, the first syllable she’d uttered since they were thrown in here.

 

“Did they offer you a plate of meat when you came in?”

 

Rick started to get a sick feeling in his gut. He was almost vibrating in place. Carl and Michonne slowly released him, but Daryl started moving his thumb in little circles on the inside of Rick’s wrist. He highly doubted that Daryl realized he was doing it. It was distracting as fuck.

 

“Yeah...?” Michonne’s voice was low.  Rick vaguely remembered a lady offering them meat off a grill, but had been too preoccupied by seeing their people’s belongings, his instincts fairly shrieking at him that this was wrong. “Rick knocked it out of my hand.”

 

“That’s... ah. A good thing, really.” Glenn paused. “Well, they gave us a choice.” Glenn’s voice sounded thick, like he was about to cry. “We could join them... or feed them.”

 

Rick heard Carl suck in his breath, and what came out was shaky with nerves. “D-Dad? What does he mean, feed them?” By the end of his question, Carl’s voice was high pitched with terror.

 

Rick had always been proud of his son’s intelligence. Carl had brought home straight A’s, on his report card and Lori would brag to anyone who would listen (and a few people wouldn’t) that Carl had taught himself to read at the age of four. Rick remembered Carl’s educational growth slightly differently, but his son was definitely on the higher side of the intelligence scale. Now, though? Now Rick wished with all his heart that Carl didn’t understand what Glenn was telling them.

 

Glenn’s voice was low, shameful, like he was telling a dirty secret. “We’re in here so they can... eat us.”

 

Rick sucked in a sharp breath. Daryl’s fingers clutched into Rick’s wrist with a painful, grasping, claw-like grip.  “Y’mean, when they separated us... Carl. He.   _I._ I told them to send him-. ” Rick’s voice broke, then gave out.  He was so sick he couldn’t even process anything except the cold realization that Carl was in this fuckin’ metal tomb because of him. Because of _his_ selfishness.

 

He was utterly shocked when Carl’s fist came out of nowhere, slugging him on the shoulder. Hard.

 

“ _Jesus_ , dad. Yeah, it’s your fault.” His bark of a laugh was biting. “Like I would ‘join them’ and be all, yum this piece of my dad and his best friends are exceptionally tasty- please pass the salt.” Carl sounded like he was about three seconds from either strangling him or bursting into tears.

 

The only thing keeping Rick from flying apart was Daryl’s iron-like grip on his wrist.

 

It was dead silent in the boxcar for approximately three seconds before Daryl snorted. Then Michonne coughed.  There was a titter from either Glenn or Maggie (once the two of them both started giggling it was hard to tell whose high pitched giggles were whose), then they were all absolutely dying laughing. Carl’s slightly hysterical belly laughs the loudest of them all.

 

They must have sounded absolutely _insane_.

 

It wasn’t funny, really. Being told that you were the next course for the slaughterhouse was just about the opposite of funny. Rick figured laughter was better than screaming.

 

But not by much.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AN+Warnings:** Obviously discussions of cannibalism and meat butchery. Also eurrgh. You would not _believe_ the stuff I had to research for this chapter. I think I’m going to eat vegetables for the rest of my life. I went a little off the beaten path for S05E01, and as a result a teeny weeny bit off of the actual show timeline, but hopefully you’ll forgive me. :)

 

Rick was getting really fuckin’ sick of getting kicked in the face.

 

There had been no warning.  A clatter from above. Something hitting the floor. Abraham bellowing to _move._ Rick had felt Carl fling himself towards him when the chaos started, and felt Daryl roll over Rick’s legs to shield Carl from the other side, but they’d had no chance.  The yellowish-white smoke sprayed out, enveloping the car, sending all his people into paroxysms of coughing.

 

Carl screamed as he was ripped from Rick’s hands. Rick had roared in fury, only to see a large body appear out of the smoke, the nightmarish gas mask making everything seem just a little more surreal.  Rick couldn’t see out of his streaming eyes, but he’d felt weightlessness for a moment as he was picked up from under his armpits. He had tried to kick out but his legs were too heavy. His skin felt too hot, like he’d been out in the sun for hours. Rick had had to force himself to breathe; his lungs and his brain confused and fighting with one another.

 

He could hear Carl coughing to his left, and Daryl’s garbled scream of something that sounded like Rick’s name before Rick was tossed out of the boxcar onto the concrete.

 

Rick staggered, still coughing. Tears streamed from his eyes, snot from his nose as he tried to breathe in the cold night air. There was so much drool coming from his mouth that he felt like a rabid dog. The kick to the face was almost as an afterthought, when he’d come up too far to his knees, like they thought he’d actually have the strength or coordination to do anything.

 

His body was in such rebellion from the smoke bomb that Rick couldn’t even fight when he felt someone cuff his hands behind him. Two people picked him up, one on each side and led him away like he was nothing.  He could still hear his people in the boxcar coughing weakly, but couldn’t do anything to help them. Rick couldn’t even scream out to anyone; his throat was this painful, burning thing from which he couldn’t even make a sound.

 

Rick felt his cuffs give as they were unlocked, but still couldn’t react with anything as close to his normal reflexes. He was thrown into a room that was so cold he shivered, even with his body as twisted as it was. He heard the solid thud of a body hitting the cold concrete next to his but still couldn’t summon the energy to look.  

 

“I told you, Ringleader, not to be stupid.” Gareth’s voice was so smug and condescending that it made Rick tremble with helpless anger. “I can’t say that you’re gonna like what comes next too much, but frankly you brought it all on yourself.” His voice sounded like a school teacher whose students had disappointed them beyond endurance.

 

By now Rick’s eyes had cleared enough that he could see the blurry outline of the room they were in. The person next to him flung himself at the door, but didn’t make it in time. Gareth and the other man with him both shut the door with a clang.

 

“Fuckin’ fucker... _fuck_!” Daryl/. Daryl was with him. Daryl tried to smash the door with his shoulder, but it was solid enough that he just bounced back. He tried again, and again before Rick could get his voice to work.

 

“Daryl,” he rasped. “Stop.”

 

To his surprise, Daryl actually did. Rick tried to get up from where he was still sprawled on the ground. He made it to his knees before collapsing back down. He managed to land on his back and lie there staring up at the ceiling, but couldn’t summon the energy to sit up. He did use his t-shirt to wipe the mess off of his face, which was fairly disgusting but since he didn’t figure he was going to have an audience with the Queen anytime this week, was pretty much out of fucks to give.

 

“Shit, Rick.  This is bad, man.” Daryl’s voice was high pitched of hysteria.

 

Before Rick could respond, he heard a swoosh of air and looked up.

 

God, he really, really wished he hadn’t.

 

At first glance the meat hanging on the wicked-looking meat hooks looked to be beef, or possibly pork. Unfortunately, Rick’s first glance didn’t last for very long. After blinking, he could clearly see that they were human torsos, hung upside down. No blood dripped from the remains (the _meat!_ It’s _meat_! - Rick’s brain helpfully supplied.), but there was a small puddle of water under them. They were cut down the front, so with the organs were  removed, so all that hung there were the slightly pink looking meat-chunks of human flesh ready to be carved and eaten like grain-fed cows were back in the old days.

 

“Oh Jesus, they’re dry-aging it, “Rick whispered, horrified. He couldn’t seem to look away from the faint shape of a butterfly tattoo on what was the lower back of... Rick’s stomach lurched and he forced himself to look back at the ceiling.  

 

He became aware that Daryl was making high-pitched gulping sounds, almost hyperventilating. Rick found the strength to crawl over to where Daryl was standing, staring at the twelve bodies hanging, drying out with his eyes wide. Even in the dim light of the... freezer? Storage unit? Wherever they were, Rick could see that Daryl’s face white with shock.

 

Rick yanked Daryl down by the bottom of his jacket, and Daryl collapsed next to him, shivering. Before he quite knew how it happened, Rick had one hand clamped on the back of Daryl’s neck, and he’d pushed their foreheads together, taking comfort in the simple touch. Daryl’s shivers made Rick feel cold, until he realized that no, the actual air was cold. Colder than it should be.  Daryl heaved a deep breath and Rick brought his other hand up, curling it on Daryl’s shoulder.

 

“So you want the bad news or the worse news?”

 

Daryl’s laugh sounded a lot like a sob. Rick realized that Daryl was clutching his jacket.  Rick pulled away a little, trying to get a look at Daryl’s face. The other man wouldn’t meet his eyes, so Rick pulled their foreheads back together, tightening his grip on Daryl’s neck. This was... off. Rick had seen Daryl come through some pretty terrifying situations with a shrug and a newer determination to get shit done. This was different. Daryl was really losing it.

 

“Hey. _Hey_. Daryl, man. Look at me.” Rick pulled back, gentling his grip on purpose. He brought the hand on Daryl’s neck down to his other shoulder, stroking from his shoulders down to his forearms, then back up, scratching his nails against the cords of Daryl’s neck.

 

Daryl’s lips trembled for a second before Rick could see him actually bite the inside of his cheek, using the pain to focus. Blue eyes met his once, then darted away.

 

“Listen to me. We will get out of this. Yeah, it’s bad. It’s real bad. But I ain’t gonna give that psychotic little fuck the satisfaction of breaking either of us. You hear me?”

 

Daryl actually sagged into Rick’s hold for a second, so abruptly that Rick’s lips brushed against Daryl’s temple. Rick was shocked by the flood of sensations the simple gesture produced, and immediately set to pushing them aside. Now wasn’t the time.

 

“I hear ya.” It was quiet; barely a breath of sound, but Rick would take it. Slowly, Daryl unclenched his death grip on the sides of Rick’s jacket, and got his breathing under control. “What’s the bad news?”

 

Rick blinked for a second, completely forgetting that he had asked Daryl a question, before replying. “We’re stuck in a meat locker by crazy-as-fuck cannibals, separated from our people with no idea how to get out of this mess.”

 

Daryl made a face. “Well, shit. What’s the worse news?”

 

“I really gotta fuckin’ pee.” Rick smiled a little.

 

There was a heartbeat of silence, then Daryl busted out a full-throated laugh that lit up his whole face. His eyes crinkled as he shook his head, bracing his hands on his thighs as he sucked in air. Rick stared a little, then jumped a little when he realized that he was staring at Daryl’s mouth.

He’d done a pretty good job of making himself forget the feel of that mouth wrapped around him, of the slick tightness of that throat. Sometimes though, the sense memory would just sneak up on him and Rick’s brain would just... stop. Rick could just lean over and kiss him. Comfort. It wouldn't have to mean much.

 

Rick made himself ease away from Daryl before he did something stupid.

 

He looked around again, standing up with a lurch of unsteady legs and going over to the wall unit on the opposite end from the door, giving the bodies on the hooks an _extremely_ wide berth.  Daryl followed him, and Rick politely pretended not to notice the other man scrubbing his hands over his face, then through his hair to get himself together.

 

“How the fuck do they have power to keep this place cold?”  
  


It was a good question. They had both been too focused to really notice it, but it was quite cold in the room. Rick could see his breath in the air.

 

“Generator maybe?”

 

Daryl shook his head. “Shi--iit,” he said, drawing out the word, “I can’t even imagine havin’ enough power to keep this place goin’. Even at the prison, we only ran the generators, what. Once a week unless there was some specific reason to.”

 

“Well, they’d have the diesel fuel from the trains.”

 

“Mmm, naw most of them run on electricity. Well, did run.”

 

Rick stared at him, gaping a little.

 

“What? I like trains.” Daryl’s voice was only a tad bit defensive.

 

Rick just shook his head, squinting in the dimming light. The only light in the room came from the door to the outside. “Think we can do something with that window?”

 

“I dunno. Maybe if we had something to break the glass?” The window in the door was too high up, and Rick cocked his head, looking around. Other than a stainless steel table, and the bodies, there was... no wait.

 

Daryl made a soft, hurt sound when Rick removed one of the bodies from the hook to try to get them off the ceiling. Rick tried to set it down easy, but couldn’t help the way he scrubbed his hands on his jeans. It felt just like any other carcass of meat, and somehow that was so fucked up, so incredibly _wrong_ that Rick’s skin crawled.

 

“Bolted.” Daryl was resolutely keeping his eyes on the ceiling. He was starting to breathe a little heavily again. There was no way that they could use the hooks. Rick darted his gaze to Daryl’s face, noticing how the other man kept his face turned away from the bodies.  Daryl brought his hands to his mouth and blew on them, rubbing them briskly together.

 

“Yeah. _Shit_.” Rick looked around the room again, searching for some way to get them out.  Rick was cold too; he had started to shiver with a fine tremor that he couldn’t control. Daryl was staring at the wall unit, glaring at it as though his gaze could somehow break it in half.

 

“What’s the point of puttin’ the two of us in here?”

 

Rick frowned. “Separate us from the group. Let us see what’s in store. Scare the shit out of us.” Any of those had an equal likelihood of being true.

 

“Yeah, well we’re gonna freeze to death before they scare us to death. Part’ of me wants to fuckin’ tear apart their...” Daryl’s voice wobbled. “Meat source, but I can’t bring myself to touch ‘em. Those were people, Rick. Like us. Travelin’ to Terminus for hope for something different.”

 

For Daryl it was a speech. Rick took the few steps closer to him, reaching out and grabbing Daryl’s shoulder. Rick idly noticed that his fingers were shaking. He’d made a special point of not thinking about Carl. Or Michonne. Or any of his people, of the fact that _anything_ could be happenin’ to them right now.

 

“ _Daryl_.” But Rick’s words dried up. He couldn’t bring himself to but voice to some useless platitude. Not now.

 

“Shit.”

 

Rick looked up at him, ashamed. He could not think of one single thing to make this better. There was no joke to say, no point in screaming for help. Daryl had been right. The temperature here was very low. Not quite cold enough to freeze, as evidenced from the water dripping from some of the fresher bodies into the drain below, but still cold enough  for hypothermia. Eventually. His breath caught.

 

Daryl pulled him into a rough hug and he was so warm that Rick found himself shifting so their bodies aligned more closely; hip to hip, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. Daryl’s arms wrapped around his back, and Rick copied the movement, knowing that he was hugging too hard, _clinging_ , but unable to stop himself. It was rough comfort in a hopeless situation.

 

“I’m sorry about Carol.” Rick’s whisper made Daryl stiffen in surprise at the way he’d just blurted it out. “She--”

 

“No. I...no. You done it. It’s over. No point in thinkin’ about it.”

 

Daryl shifted and Rick felt his lips brush against the space below his ear. Rick did his best not to react, but his knees almost buckled from the sensation. Daryl didn’t mean it like that.  It had been an accident, like Rick had done earlier. Daryl didn’t need him acting weird, not now especially.

 

“Rick.” Daryl’s voice was low, garbled. His arms clutched Rick for a second, almost like a reflex. “Rick... I--”

 

An explosion rocked the foundations.

 

Both he and Daryl flew apart. Rick falling to his knees. His teeth clicked together on his tongue.  Daryl fell back on his ass, knocking his head against the steel table. Very, very faintly came the unmistakable sound of machine gun fire, sounding like little pops. They met each other’s gaze in shock, before scrambling as one to the door. They began throwing themselves against it, screaming for help.

 

It was like some dream when he heard Carl’s voice from the other side of the door. “Dad? Stand back okay? There’s a lock.”

 

Rick almost collapsed in shock. He felt Daryl haul him back by his jacket and shirt and knew he was acting stupid, that he could be doing more to help, but hearing Carl’s voice, his _son_ on the other side of that door left him weak with reaction.

 

There was a shot, then a ping, then the door was flung open and before Rick could even say anything, Carl flung himself into Rick’s arms with a war whoop of victory.

 

Glenn and Bob stood behind him, trying and failing not to grin. “Grimes, that kid of yours...” Glenn moved forward to help Daryl up to his feet. “He might be small, but he comes by his badassery naturally. _Shit_ , man.” Bob just nodded, looking back over his shoulder at the main room.

 

Carl pushed back the brim of his hat with a sheepish smile. Daryl snorted.

 

“You can tell me later.” Rick made himself stop clutching Carl’s too-thin body to his and stood up. They walked out of the freezer and into the stuff of nightmares. They saw what looked to be a butchery area. To their left was another stainless steel block. Rick staggered when he saw Alex on it, the man he’d used as a human shield on the slab.  He was missing one leg and different saws and blades were lined up neatly next to him. There were three blue bins, clearly labelled as Burn, Feed, and Wash next to it. The most horrifying thing was the stainless steel drain trough in the middle of the room.  Four gagged and bound men slumped over its edge, blood still draining from their slit throats into the trough.  Rick saw two men dead on the ground before he and Daryl armed themselves, ready for whatever had to happen.

 

Rick took a shaky breath. His body was used to the adrenaline now, but it still took a second for his brain to catch up from ‘certain death’ to ‘a chance in hell’.

 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and taking a chance on a WIP! I should be able to keep to my posting schedule for the next few days, but after the first week in January, I will have to dial back to a post every three days, or week, depending. Please feel free to subscribe to this story (or author alerts) and you'll get an email that alerts you whenever I update so that you don't miss anything. As always, comments and concrit are welcomed!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I love Eugene. I have been waiting for this chapter so that I could write him. Brace yourself. There’s some set-up here for later chapters. Sorry that it’s a bit thinky, and non-dialogue heavy.
> 
>  
> 
>  **FoxyK** MADE ME A THING!!!! asdkla;ksanADA;LSFKAL;FKA;DF;LASD.  
> 

* * *

 

Rick couldn’t seem to get his group to understand.  Those “people?” They did not get to live. They did _not_ get to continue to breathe when they’d been so instrumental in the murder of god knew how many survivors, innocent people whose only crime was looking for a bit of sanctuary.

 

Thunder, or gunfire- it was a little hard to tell- seemed to punctuate his thoughts.

 

Rick dug more furiously, throwing aside the shovel and tossing Carl, Michonne, and Daryl their stuff, before unzipping the duffel and hefting the weight of the Colt in his hand. Just having it made him feel more secure. It was asinine to remain attached to an inanimate object in this new world in which they found themselves, but he figured it was a little like Michonne’s sword or Daryl’s crossbow, both of which they’d lacked the time to find in the mad rush to escape Terminus. Or Carl’s hat. Something real, something familiar. Security in an insecure time.

 

Abraham’s harsh and angry voice jarred Rick out of his thoughts.  “I'm not dicking around with this crap. We just made it out!”

 

Maggie looked at Rick like he was insane. “The fences are down. They'll run... or die.” Glenn nodded and Rick grit his teeth. Maybe he was being irrational, but it just didn’t sit well with him. When you had a weed in the garden, or a rotten piece of fruit in a fruit bowl (not that Rick could even clearly imagine either one of those things at this point) you didn't leave it there to spread. You threw it away, removed it so that it couldn’t spread its infection to the rest.

 

Rick cut his gaze to Daryl, who stood there with his hand against the bark of a tree. Rick raised his eyebrows and Daryl responded just as silently, a small nod that-

 

-a single footstep crunched against the dead leaves of the woods.

 

Rick jerked his head around only to gape, standing from his crouch in stunned shock. Carol, _their_ Carol, stood there staring at them.  Rick heard Daryl’s gasp and watched as he ran to her, pulling his friend into his arms and swinging her a little with the strength of his embrace.  Rick had to squelch... _some_ thing when he saw them, wincing inwardly at the guilt his jealous thought brought. Rick felt ashamed of himself.  He moved hesitantly towards Carol and Daryl, not wanting to intrude on their reunion, especially after such uncharitable thoughts. Rick watched as Daryl rested his head on Carol’s shoulder for just a second.  Carol kissed Daryl’s temple, overcome, smiling through her tears.

 

Daryl pulled away and Carol glanced over his shoulder, no doubt taking in all the faces of the people that made it out with them,cataloguing who they lost. Her grey-blue gaze was wet with a sheen of tears, and god help him, there was a flash of fear in her eyes for a moment before Rick stepped forward. The guilt swimming in Rick’s gut flared again when Carol flinched away from him for just a second before he pulled her towards him in a hug. Rick heard Daryl’s sniff and knew the other man was trying not to lose his shit right there in front of everyone. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Daryl was trembling, holding himself in check by sheer willpower.

 

Carol’s hug was strong, and for a heartbeat Rick was reminded of the Carol he’d come out of Atlanta with, the Carol whose daughter he hadn’t been able to save, the Carol that had taken care of all of them for those long months in the prison. It was _that_ Carol, and not the strangely brittle version he held in his arms that made Rick feel absolutely sick. He was responsible for this. He had kicked her out. Disowned his _family_ for crimes committed in a time when they had all done whatever they could do to survive, and damn the consequences. Daryl had been right. He was certainly no better. Whatever moral high ground he’d thought he had was laughable. He let her go and stepped away.

 

His voice cracked on a laugh when he asked her,  “Did you do that?” Rick jerked his head back towards Terminus, remembering the explosion that had rocked the very ground he and Daryl had stood on, sending both of them ass over teakettle.

 

Carol blinked rapidly with a little nod, sniffling a little. She laughed.  “You have to come with me.”

 

Rick took a step back when Carol took a step forward, hugging Carl hard. She had Michonne’s sword strapped across her back and was carrying Daryl’s crossbow. Carol  handed them over with a soft smile.  Maggie stepped forward and Carol turned back towards the woods, walking quickly.  “It has to be now. Come on.”

 

Rick didn’t miss the way that Daryl jogged a little to catch up with her, nudging her with his shoulder as he settled his crossbow on his shoulder. It was good. Yes, _good_ , to see Daryl so happy for once. Christ knew they’d had little enough to be happy about for the longest time.

 

Carol just shook her head, refusing to answer any questions. “Just come on,” she said, insistently.  Carol darted through some trees and back to a road, walking so quickly that she was almost running. Rick began to be alarmed, and tightened his hand on the butt of his Python when he saw a simple wooden shack on the side of the road. There was evidence of walkers, all of which were dead, as though from a small tornado. The door opened and---

 

\---and the bottom dropped out of his world.

 

 

Rick ran.

 

He _sprinted_ towards her, towards _Judith_ ,   _ohgodohchristohjesus_ , dropping his pack and the guns without even thinking about the danger, tripping over his own two feet as he skidded to a stop, staggering, almost on his knees in the dirt, hugging _his baby his babygirl his_ Judith, _alive_ , how the fuck, how the _everloving fuck_ was it even _possible-_ tightly to his chest.

 

Dimly he was aware of Carl’s scream of “Judith” before Carl was suddenly at Rick’s side, touching his sister with hands that trembled.  

 

Rick inhaled on a sob, breaking down right there in front of god and everyone. He kissed the top of Judith’s downy head, greedily inhaling her sweet, baby powder scent.  Rick caught one glimpse of Daryl’s face through his tears, his half-smile showing the same shock and awe that was on the faces of everyone else.  Judith gave an indignant cry muffled against Rick’s chest, and Rick tried to ease his grip.  Carl had her head cupped in his hands  and kissed her once, then again, blowing a raspberry against the chubby cheek to get her to laugh and Rick thought he was going to have a heart attack, that his heart was just going to shatter right here into a million peices in the cool Georgia air.

 

Still feeling like his legs wouldn’t hold him, Rick turned to see Tyreese to his left. Rick didn’t even remember snatching his daughter out of his hands, and saw Sasha crying happy tears as he laced her fingers with her brother’s, unwilling to let him go, even for a moment.  Rick clutched Tyreese’s arm, nodding, unable to speak. He nodded, and Tyreese seemed to understand. The big man hugged his sister to him again with one arm, kissing her forehead.

 

Rick heard Tyreese murmuring to Carol but didn’t catch what they said.

 

Carl tugged at Judith, and Rick let her go, bending over with his hands on his thighs and sucking in slow, calming breaths, unable to take his eyes off either of his children.

 

“Now that is, without a doubt, something to bring a smile to the faces even the most dubious of cynics. I’m feeling a little in awe at the pulchritude of emotions runnin’ amok at this here present moment in time.”

 

Rick looked up, knowing that he was grinning like a maniac and not giving a shit. His eyes went to Daryl first as they always seem to do.  Daryl and Carol were talking lowly, both looking at Carl and Judith almost solemnly, until Rick caught sight of Daryl’s slightly trembling lips or Carol’s wet eyes.  Michonne had a pale-knuckled deathgrip on her katana, her face softened by the bright smile on her face. Bob stood a little off by himself, looking at Sasha and her brother with his heart in his eyes. For the first time, Rick wondered what they’d gone through since the prison to get here safely. Glenn and Maggie were holding hands, staring at all of them, Rick, Judith and Carl, Tyreese and Sasha with identical smiles. Maggie had tears trailing down her filthy cheeks. Rick recognized the way they stood there in the way that couples did, as though they had both just reached out for the other with the rock-solid understanding that the other would be there, reaching out for them.   Abraham and two women (one that Rick was sure he recognized from somewhere) stood loosely gathered around the man that had spoken.

 

He was staring at Rick with a solemn look on his face. The man still looked soft around the edges, lacking the knife-like sharpness that the rest of them possessed. Rick’s long-dormant cop instincts kicked in as he took in the fact that this was _not_ a violent man. It wasn’t just the mullet, although that was an entire story in itself, but the way he wore no weapons, content enough to stand in Abraham’s shadow.

 

“As much of a kodak moment that this is, I cannot help but entertain the idea immortalized by the sinnin’, rumblin’ voice of Arkansasian wisdom, Mister Johnny Cash, that while we keep our eyes wide open all the time, we should most assuredly walk the line.”

 

Rick blinked. He cocked his head towards the man, unable to keep the ridiculous smile in check. “I don’t think that’s quite how that song went.”

 

The man smiled back a little shyly, ignoring the faintly exasperated look Abraham gave him as he took a few steps forward, holding out his hand towards Rick.  “Eugene Porter. Please excuse my bastardization of such a prepossessin’ and forthright lyrical genius. The sentiment does remain the same, however.”

 

Rick straightened, feeling the cold slap of reality hit him like a punch to the gut. “ Rick.” He dropped Eugene’s hand. “You’re right.” He looked around, noticing that everyone had crowded into a smaller semi-circle around him, Carl and Judith. All at once Beth and Hershel’s glaring absence from their presence _hurt_.  He sucked in a long, serrated breath and took Judith back from Carl.

 

“He’s right. We need to move.” Abraham looked up. “Looks like rain.”  Abraham moved into action, having obviously been willing enough to allow everyone their moments, but still anxious. “Okay- well, North is thataway.” He jerked his head towards the train tracks, barely discernable in the distance. “We need to get our asses in gear, folks, before those dead pricks decide we’re more interesting than Terminus.”

 

Rick held up a hand. “Wait. You’re right, but wait. We’re low on supplies ‘n’ it looks like some of us are hurt. We should go, sure, but find a place--”

 

“Dad! _Dad_! The place with the water!”

 

Everyone turned to look at Carl. He faltered a little, stymied by everyone’s attention suddenly on him. Carl pushed his hat back jutting out his chin in a way that Rick recognized was all Lori. Jesus _fuck_. He wasn’t sure his heart could take much more today.  “There’s space, and supplies, and it’s away from here.”

 

Rick raised his eyebrows. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “It’s secure too. Well, should still be anyway.”  There was really no way of telling on that score. It could have been overrun by walkers, or another group, or a combination of both. Still, it was vaguely north (more like northeast) in direction. Rick didn’t know why this guy had such a hardon for Washington DC, but it was a compromise of sorts. Or, at least as much of a compromise as Rick was willing to make.

 

Abraham’s jaw clenched, but he shrugged. “Don’t really give a fuck s’long as we’re moving.”

 

Rick sighed. He wasn’t sure if this guy was going to be a problem or not, but he wasn’t wrong about needing to move.  Daryl turned, catching up Rick’s pack without a word. He still had room to use his bow, but was clearly just as anxious to go as Abraham.

 

They fell into a loose formation, briefly introducing each other but otherwise staying sharp and quiet, eyes trained on the woods around them. Daryl walked in the front of their group with Carol half a step behind. Tyreese, Sophia, and Bob walked behind them. Rick knew that his arms would get tired eventually, but he held Judith otherwise unburdened except for his gunbelt. Michonne walked to his right and Carl, holding Rick’s extra assault rifle, to his left. Eugene and Tara (Rick _really_ knew her face from somewhere goddamnit, and it was going to click from where he’d seen her before.) fell into step behind Rick, and Abraham and Rosita brought up the rear.

 

For such a large group, they moved quietly.

 

Rick whistled lowly to Daryl, who turned, but kept walking. Carol said something and Daryl flashed  a quick grin that Rick caught in profile. Rick purposefully hadn’t used any of their warning signals, and that particular sound was more of a ‘psst, _hey_!’ then ‘DROP EVERYTHING AND START SHOOTING’. Daryl raised his eyebrows in question.   

 

“Double back later?”

 

Daryl nodded  then turned back around. Rick was struck then by how well they understood each other.  Rick had meant, ‘we need to lose any trail for a bit, then can double back into the woods later,’ but Daryl was, as usual, way ahead of him.

 

Judith batted at his beard, tugging firmly with her chubby little hand. Rick winced and kissed her fingers.  It hadn’t really been that long since the prison- maybe eleven days, twelve at most, but it felt like months since he had held his little girl. She was dressed neatly, and Rick honestly didn’t know how he would begin to thank Tyreese or Carol for what they’d done for him.

 

He sighed. Walking like this; having a chance to catch his breath was both a blessing and a curse. Since the prison it really had been one thing after another. It was hard to believe that just yesterday Rick had been sitting on the porch at the cabin cleaning his weapons, listening to Carl laugh over his knife lessons. That was before all this. Rick had gone from blatant terror to indescribable joy in just hours, and he couldn’t help but be suspect of it; like someone was going to snatch it away from him.   If ever there was something to make you lose your faith in god- it was the goddamn Apocalypse (Rick snickered to himself at the pun), but walking right now with Judith in his arms it was a little difficult for Rick be resentful.

 

Just very, very grateful.

 

Rick laughed when right after that positive thought a drop of rain hit his nose. Carol suddenly darted off into the woods, a grunt and a familiar _splat_ speaking volumes about what she was doing. Rick watched as Daryl squinted up at the sky, then paused. The rest of the group took a chance to pause too, sipping from water bottles and shifting the weight of heavy packs to try to make them more comfortable. Rick had been right. Judith _had_ gotten heavy for the hours that they'd walked, focused on putting distance between them and Terminus.  

 

"You want me to take her?" Carl smiled at his sister who yawned in response, crinkling up her nose.

 

"Sure. She's heavy though," Rick responded.

 

“We have a baby backpack, if you want it.”  Tyreese smiled back at them. “She stays pretty comfortable.”

 

“Thanks, but... no. I’m good.” Carl handed Rick the gun and took his sister into his arms, hefting her on his hip like a pro. Judith’s laugh was gorgeous, and Rick had to look away, blinking hard for a second to get himself under control. Daryl wiped his face with the rag he’d taken to keeping in his back pocket and looked back at the group he was leading. His eyes met Rick’s, and he cocked his head a little, as though he were asking Rick a question.

 

Rick nodded.

 

The road they’d been travelling on ended in a T shape. Daryl gestured towards the road that would lead them closer towards the cabin. Eventually, they’d have to go off in the woods, but for now they could stick to roads to hopefully hide their tracks.  

 

With the rain, they started making harder time, keeping to a fairly stiff clip until a very familiar GMC truck came into view. Both Daryl and Michonne closed ranks around Carl, who only showed his memory of what had happened by gritting his teeth and clutching Judith a little tighter. Michonne leaned over and whispered something in Carl’s ear, and he nodded, giving her a wan smile.

 

The rain was coming down more quickly now and Carol moved back to hand Rick Judith’s jacket. It was brown faux fur and had little ears on the top.  Everyone walking in front of them kept stealing little “aww” looks over their shoulders.  Judith batted at the rain and giggling. It struck Rick then, that she had not really had the opportunity to really play in the rain. Aside from the past ten days, Judith had never really been in it. Oh, they had let her play in the sun, and she’d been in the snow on the few days they’d had it, but whenever there had been rain, Judith had been dashed inside to avoid her getting ill.

 

“Hey, Rick. C’mere a sec.”  

 

Rick looked up at Daryl and nodded, moving through everyone until he reached the front of the line. Carol gave him a small smile and Rick nodded to her. He knew they’d have to talk, and soon, but she wasn’t forcing the issue.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I c’n mess with the tracks later. Won’t erase ‘em totally, not with this many damn people, but it should give us some breathing room.  We should prob’ly hold up here a sec though.”

 

Rick nodded, understanding at once. It wasn’t that far to the kudzu driveway.  He turned around to face his little group. “Okay y’all. We need volunteers to go back a bit and make sure we aren’t bein’ followed.”

 

Sasha and Maggie raised their hands immediately, Glenn and Bob doing the same a half-second later.

 

Rick looked at Abraham who had both of his hands on the small of his back, stretching.  “You mind heading things up here, while Me ‘n’ Daryl go up and clear the house?”

 

“Actually, I think Carol can handle it, instead, Rick.  I’ll show her where to go.”

 

Rick squinted a little, nodding. He turned away quickly before his hurt could show on his face.  “Okay. Meet back here in ten minutes.” Rick knew that it was five minutes up the driveway, and five minutes back.  Rick kept his voice even.   Daryl and Carol left single-file through the kudzu, leaving hardly a trace of themselves behind.  Rick crouched and picked absently at something crusty on the hem of his jeans.  

He very carefully didn’t meet Michonne’s knowing gaze.

 

First Beth, and now Carol? Rick hated himself.  What the fuck was _wrong_ with him? This was... this was ridiculous. Not like him at all. He’d never minded when Lori talked to other men. Even when she talked to Shane (and yeah, Rick could appreciate the fucking irony _there_ ), before all this shit happened, Rick was never the jealous type. Mostly because Lori would have punched him in the balls if he had ever acted on it, but partially because Rick was just not an asshole like that. But with Daryl, he was all but dragging his knuckles on the ground and beating his chest ... and there was _no fucking reason_.

 

So what if he and Daryl had... _Jesus._ Rick couldn’t even think it without blushing. That was circumstance, not actual desire. Rick and Daryl had talked and somehow had both decided that it wasn’t really anyone’s fault, but Rick knew what he had done. He’d never, ever forget it.

 

Judith laughed and Rick started. Abraham was making goofy faces at her and Judith seemed to be fascinated by the large, red mustache Abraham sported.

 

This was stupid; it was _Rick’s_ problem that he couldn’t stop thinking about Daryl’s mouth, or reading too much into their interactions and he had to get over it. _Right the fuck now._

 

Rick tried not to tense when ten minutes went by, or fifteen. At the twenty minute mark though, Rick was just about ready to grab another assault rifle and bust through the kudzu when Daryl’s voice came through the brush.

 

“Y’all best come on. Single file though. Someone needs to wait for the lovebirds so their damnfool asses know where to go.”

 

“I’ll do it.” Rick volunteered before anyone else could.  

 

There was a pause. “Alright. See if you can hide the path a little.”

 

Rick nodded, and kissed the top of Judith’s head as Carl carried her by. He heard Daryl admonishing everyone to be careful, and did what he could to hide the fact that over a dozen people had just trampled through. He knew Daryl would do a better job.

 

He had plenty of time to berate himself while he waited for Sasha, Bob, Maggie, and Glenn to come back from their scouting mission. Rick knew that no one was going to sleep tonight, and was looking forward to recapturing some of the peace he’d had before.  Even with a relatively nice place, peace was deceptive.  

 

It was just a matter of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Warning for underage drinking. Mind the tags and the **rating**!

“And then, this little _bastard_ , oops- sorry Carl. No offence- you know what he said?” Glenn hardly paused, knowing that he had his audience in the palm of his hand. He raised his voice, “He starts listing this laundry list of shit.” Glenn slowed his voice down so that he could better imitate Carl. “‘There's guns in it. AK-47. .44 Magnum. Automatic weapons. Nightscope. There's a compound bow and a machete with a red handle. _That's_ what my dad is gonna use to kill you.’”

 

Bob jumped in. “Here I am, begging for my life, practically shitting myself, and he’s all, ‘no problem... cool as a cucumber... you gonna regret this.’”

 

Badly stifled laughter filled the quiet night.

 

Rick, knowing that no one could see him in the dark, smiled. He had taken second watch, and the windows were open just enough that the sound of their voices floated out into the quiet night. He couldn’t even blame them for staying up later than was probably wise. Everyone was just so happy to be together that the reunion had gone on much longer than... well.

 

None of them had been willing to trust their safety to the fact that the cabin had been built with a lake not too far away. There was a bit of a ravine that would make getting water kind of a drag, but it could be done. It also meant that walkers would have a hard time climbing up from the water. Humans wouldn’t though, so they Daryl and Tyreese had planted tripwires and sound traps. Between that and the dense foliage that covered the trees to the back of the cabin, they felt it was fairly safe.  They’d strung wire and cans as an alarm, and posted two people on diagonal corners of the house.  Carl and Eugene had taken the first watch (considered the safest since everyone was still up, getting things ready) Rick and Tyreese had taken the second watch. Carol and Sasha had the third, and Abraham and Glenn the last.

 

The people who weren’t on watch had helped out in other ways, such as hauling the water outside so that people could wash up, cooking food, and setting up bed space. They had a fire that was just big enough to cook with, then splurged on the wood to keep a little light in the main room. With fifteen people here, the food that had seemed like so much before looked a little less vast.  The group, some of whom hadn’t eaten much other than the powdered milk and canned fruit Gareth’s group had fed them to fatten them up, had quickly decided to splurge for tonight only, then forage later in accompanying towns as they started moving north. That was probably the only bone of contention between the two merged groups. Rick could tell that there was something between them that he wasn’t being told. Bob, Sasha, Maggie, Glen, Rosita, Eugene and of course, Abraham all were keeping quiet for now. Rick was content enough to wait. It would come out in time.

 

And right now? They all needed this. Something to put a little bit of space between the horrors of Terminus and beginning of wandering through Georgia until they found someplace else for the winter.

 

The basement door was flung open, but a sound trap had been left as a last, desperate alarm, in case the people below ground happened to sleep through any attacking walkers, gunfire, or screams of maiming. That certainly wasn’t very likely. Rick was fairly certain that all of them slept with one eye open nowadays anyhow.

 

Aside from Carl and Judith. Those two could sleep through a hurricane.  

 

“Well, folks. I think I’m going to head on to bed. I want to grab some sleep before Abe or Glenn wake me up.” Sasha smiled, and Rick heard the sounds of his people telling her goodnight. There was only a little bit of ribbing for Bob following her. Rosita and Abraham were already downstairs.

 

Sleeping arrangements had been a bit of a trick, but with some careful maneuvering, they had all managed. They had all the mattresses downstairs, but most of the blankets and pillows upstairs.  Abraham, Rosita, Bob, Maggie, and Glenn had all opted to sleep downstairs, with Tyreese and Sasha both opting to go underground with Judith rather than stay upstairs. Tara hadn’t had any interest in going underground. Michonne, Carl, Rick and Carol and Eugene had all opted to sleep either in the loft or in the living room on blankets and pillows.

 

Rick wasn’t sure where Daryl was sleeping. He figured he and Carol would bunk together with Eugene on the bottom, while he, Michonne and Carl took upstairs. Daryl wasn’t on watch, and the last time Rick had gone to get a drink, was sprawled on the floor, looking much calmer than earlier today, just kind of quietly taking in the noise.

 

“I didn’t sound like that,” Carl spoke a little bashfully, speaking up into a quiet moment. “I was just...” Carl sighed.

 

“Aw, man I’m just messin’ with you. You saved our asses though. You and Bob both, stalling like that til Carol could do her Rambo thing. I can honestly say that I wouldn’t be here without all of you. And on that note, I’m gonna take my missus to bed.”

 

There were more goodnights as Glenn and Maggie made their way downstairs.

 

“Y’all couldn’t get me to sleep downstairs without a hazmat suit.” Daryl’s voice was quiet. “Damn lucky it don’t sound like a porno with all them downstairs like that.”

 

The laughter from that was a little louder than it probably should have been, considering there were windows open.  One by one, people went to where there were sleeping until Rick could only hear Carol, Daryl, Carl, Michonne, and Tara in front of the fireplace. He sighed, standing up to make a visual check with Tyreese. His boots were quiet in the dirt around the cabin as Rick kept both of his sides of the house in his sights.

 

When Rick got closer to the outside basement door, he heard a whispered gasp, and a muffled moan. Jeesus. Daryl had got it in one. Rick wasn’t sure if he approved of them doing all that down there where his innocent baby girl slept, but he also couldn’t blame anyone for taking what comfort they could.  As long as they were quiet, he couldn’t much complain. They weren’t loud enough to be heard over the people in the living room, after all. Rick only heard the soft sound because he was listening for it.

 

Rick wrinkled his nose, feeling like a pervert and shifted uncomfortably. He made his rounds, nodded to Tyreese who sat in the shadows. His rifle was to the side, within easy reach should someone or something attack them.

 

Rick very carefully didn’t point out that with a scope and a silencer, either Tyreese or himself would be out before they could raise the alarm, but Rick had made himself stop thinking like that before he went nuts. He trusted Daryl wouldn’t let them get close enough, that the sound traps and trips that he’d set up would give them ample warning.

 

“You good?”

 

“Yeah man. Actually, been meaning to talk to you. To apologize. For startin’ that fight.”

 

Rick smiled a little. “You want me to apologize for kickin’ your ass?”  He was joking. Tyreese knew he was joking. Rick wasn’t proud of the way he’d lost himself then. Tyreese had just found Karen and David, and Rick had beaten the shit out of the poor man.

 

“No. You were just takin’ care of yours. I just wasn’t in a place to see it.”

 

Rick’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “I didn’t know Karen or David all that well.”

 

Tyreese snorted. “No. You were fine ‘til I had my hand wrapped around Daryl’s neck.” He stretched while Rick tried not to gape at him. “I ain’t sayin’ that I didn’t have reason, and if something like that happened I wouldn’t do it again, but I _am_ sorry, man.”

 

Tyreese held out his hand.

 

“What you did for my girl, there ain’t no way I can ever repay that. I’d say we’re more than square.”  Rick wasn’t surprised when Tyreese shook his hand. “But if you ever need somethin’...”

 

Tyreese lowered his voice. “You gotta go back, so I’ll make it quick. A soft burst of laughter trickled out from inside the cabin, and Tyreese leaned forward so that he could speak low. “It’s Carol. She...”

 

Rick felt his guts squirm with guilt. “I know. Shit, I know. I’ll beg if I have to. Grovel. I’ll make it right.”

 

“Alright then.” As if to punctuate Tyreese’s words, thunder growled, lightning flashing in the distance.

 

Rick nodded and turned back towards his corner of the house. Taking watch in the rain was both a blessing and a curse. The lightning would illuminate anything trying to sneak up, but the sound of rain and thunder could potentially cover the sound of one of their traps going off. Rick was almost afraid to peek into the warm, inviting-looking living room, but did so to check on Carl more than anything else. His boots came to a stop when he saw what Carl had and stood there in shadows before opening the door and stopping on the threshold.

 

It was pretty damn funny how they all froze, looking at him. Rick had to bite the inside of his cheek so that he wouldn’t bust out laughing.  Carl still had the whiskey bottle up to his lips, staring at his dad with a wide, deer-in-the-headlights expression. Daryl still lounged against the wall of the house, with his legs sprawled out. Carol had her head pillowed on one of his thighs. Daryl was looking at Rick with a faint grin, like he knew Rick found this amusing. Tara looked like she was about to have a heart attack. Michonne just looked at Carl and shook her head, smirking up at Rick.

 

“Where’d you find it?” Rick kept his voice tight, like he was angry.

 

“Uh...”  Carl finally lowered the bottle, handing it over to his dad with the faintly sick expression worn by any teenager who had ever been caught out by their parents. “Carol had it.”

 

Carol snorted. “Hey, I told you that you’d have to deal with the consequences.” She pointed at Rick. “Meet the consequences.”

 

Instead of taking the bottle away, Rick took a quick swig more to taste it than to drink really. Screwing with Carl was one thing but he wasn’t going to get shitfaced while on watch. He handed it back to a very shocked Carl. “You know it’s gonna suck tomorrow, right?”

 

“I.. uh, I mean.. _really_?” Carl sounded delighted.

 

Rick shrugged, cocking his head. “Hnnm. Ain’t my place. You’ve earned it if this is what you want to do.”  Rick cut his eyes to Michonne who was grinning brightly.  “You puke on her though and _that_ is on you, son.”

 

Michonne stroked the sheath of the katana threateningly, raising her eyebrows at Carl. “For real.”

  
Rick made himself look over at Daryl and Carol, forcing his face not to react at how comfortable they looked. “Y’all have a good night now.” He nodded at Tara, ruffled the hair on Carl’s head and walked back outside, sucking in a breath of the cold air gratefully. He waited, knowing what was coming.

 

There was the sound of  very strong coughing and sputtering and Rick’s grin turned a little nasty.  

 

“It--- isn’t-- bad,” Carl wheezed, clearly trying to sound like all his throat wasn’t on actual fire. “Has a bit of a bite.”

 

Daryl snorted. “Pass it on, man. First rule is not to bogart the bottle.”

 

There weren’t all that many rites of passage for Carl to rebel against. It was a stupid thing, but Rick would rather he do it now while they were in relative safety rather than try to sneak around with it when they needed him sharp. Besides, between Carol, Daryl, and Michonne, he had absolutely no doubt that Carl would get the entire ‘shitfaced’ experience, including a very painful hangover that would stay with his son for awhile.

 

Rick made himself comfortable and looked up at the sky. The rain from earlier was coming down a little harder. Glenn poked up, half naked from the outside basement stairs and grinned at Rick before moving the sound trap and closing the doors. Rick figured they’d rather be a little warm than be rained on.  Rick moved to set the sound trap back up, burrowing a little in his jacket for warmth before making his way back to the dry spot, watching the rain fall in the woods.

 

“No- I have watch next. I’m good.” Carol sounded like she was close to sleep.

 

“So, you feelin’ it yet?” Daryl’s low voice sounded like he was waiting for Carl to lie to him. Rick shivered.

 

Rick could imagine his son’s shy grin. “A little. My stomach feels warm.”

 

“I miss wine.” Michonne sounded wistful. “We used to get the good stuff, too. Have a little party with different vintages.”

 

“I miss parties,” Tara’s voice was low, like she was a little shy about inserting herself into the conversation.

 

“I miss sex.” Carol’s sleepy voice made everyone laugh.

 

“Hey, at least you’ve had it,” Carl’s mutter made everyone laugh even harder.

 

Rick’s eyebrows hiked to his hairline. Rites of passage were one thing. Rick’s own kid talking about sex was a whole other thing altogether.  Michonne seemed to think so too, steering the conversation to something a little less awkward.

 

The time passed slowly. Rick kept his feet from falling asleep by going back out into the rain, seeing Tyreese from the other side doing the same thing. Rick peeked into a window to see how the drinking party was going.  Michonne had disappeared, and so had Tara. To Rick’s surprise, Carl was still hanging in there. Someone had gotten him a bottle of water, and it looked like they were making him drink that with it, which Rick appreciated. Carl would too, come tomorrow.

  
Daryl had shifted so that Carol was sleeping next to him. She was curled up with her back to them, but still pressed up against Daryl’s leg, fast asleep. The fire was very low now, burning with mostly the coals of a fire about to die. Carl had propped himself up on the other side of the fireplace, and was sitting like Daryl. The two of them passed the bottle back and forth. Rick smiled a little to see that barely half of the bottle was gone.  It looked like the only person who’d be feeling it tomorrow would be Carl.

 

Which was sort of the point.

 

Rick figured that he had about half an hour left on his watch. Sasha had a watch with an alarm, and while they didn’t know if the time on it was exact, it gave them something to go by. She’d be up to relieve him and Tyreese soon enough. Carol looked exhausted, like she needed all the sleep she could get.

 

Rick sighed then made himself comfortable again against the wall of the house. After awhile, Carl’s voice, barely above a whisper floated out into the night.

 

“Daryl... can I ask you a question? ‘Bout.. You know. Stuff?”

 

Daryl snorted. “Sure kid. Can’t promise that you’ll like the answers though.”

 

It was quiet for a second. “How old were you when you had sex the first time?” Carl’s words were a little fast with nervousness, but it was clear he wanted to talk.

 

Rick bit his lip at Daryl’s cough. “Uh... Don’cha think you should be talkin’ to your dad about this?”

 

“Uh, _no_.” Carl sounded mildly traumatized. “No I def’n’tly do _not_. Yuck. I don’t want t’even think about him knowing what sex is. Eu _uurg_ gh.” He paused. “You don’t have to talk about it I guess,” Carl said like he was granting Daryl some great concession.

 

“I don’t _have_ to do a damn thing.” There was a pause. “I was ‘bout your age. Fifteen.”

 

“Was she pretty?”

 

Daryl snorted. “ _He_ was not.”

 

Wait _. What?_

 

Thunder boomed overhead, making Rick jump. A bit guiltily he did a quick scan, timing it with the lightning so that he could see everything clearly illuminated.

 

“Oh.” Carl sounded pensive.

 

Rick thought he was going to swallow his tongue.  He held his breath, listening.

 

“Yeah. ‘ _Oh_.’, “ Daryl echoed, sounding amused. “That don’t bug you?”

 

“... no. Not bug me. Surprises me a little. I thought gay guys were supposed to be all.. wishy washy. You’re like, badass--- _ow_! What was that for?” Carl sounded betrayed. There was another  low growl of thunder and Rick cursed under his breath when he realized that because of it, he’d missed whatever Daryl’s reply was.

 

Daryl continued as though he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. “Now, the second time, _she_ was beautiful. Mary Jo McGee.” Daryl drew her name out, almost reverently. “Wasn’t my best two minutes.”

 

Carl laughed. “Oh come on, that can’t be her name.”

 

“Fuck if it wasn’t. She was hot, too. Had--”

 

He cut off, but Rick didn’t have much problem imagining what Daryl was doing. He could almost imagine him cupping his palms in front of his chest. Carl confirmed it when his wistful, “I bet boobs are awesome,” sighed though the cool night air.

 

“Yep. Pretty awesome.”

 

There was a yawn. “Wait- then you like.. uh, both? Girls _and_ guys?”

 

Daryl sucked his teeth. “I like who I like,” he answered quietly.

 

Rick wanted them to go back a few steps. To the part where Daryl was straight, like him. He actually shook his head, wiggling the skin in front of his ear as though he’d misheard. Daryl was.... he wasn’t.... holy _shit._ Rick blinked, feeling like his brain had broken.

 

Rick thudded his head against the wall of the cabin, once. Hard enough for him to stop focusing on Daryl, and focus on his _son_. Jesus.

 

“You uh. You know what sex ... _is_ , right?” Daryl’s words were so painfully awkward that Rick couldn’t help the small grin.

 

Carl snorted, then hiccupped. “‘Jeez. _Yes_.  And I understood that porno comment too. It was really gross by the way.” There was a pause. Then a longer pause. “Hey. Wait. How do guys...”

 

“Uh, that one you’ll have to ask someone else, “ came the hurried response. Daryl made a weird sound, like a stretch. Rick could imagine him moving a little so that his legs wouldn’t fall asleep, getting comfortable for the heart-to-heart.  “Why you so worried?”

 

“Do you think Tara is.. nice?”

 

“Aw hell, kid. I think that... you best not get your hopes set on her that way. Pretty sure she’s not into guys.” Daryl lowered his voice, sounding like he was about to laugh when he whispered, “We can tell.”

 

Carl’s echoing “oh” was quiet. He sighed. “You think we’ll ever find someone that I can ... uh...”

 

“What brought all this on?” Daryl ignored Carl’s question.

 

“Just... that guy. I didn’t want that to be... I mean, Maggie and Glenn always look like they love each other so much. Even my mom and dad didn’t look like that. Except the time he stayed out on that run all night. Maggie was pretty mad at him that time, but even then, you could just tell it was ‘cuz she was worried. There’s no other kids around. No one my age. I just... it would be nice y’know?”

 

Daryl was quiet for several minutes. “That guy? That wasn’t sex. That wa’n’t even anything close to sex.”

  
Rick’s hands curled into his fists so hard that his fingernails left bloody half-moons in his palms.

 

“I know. That’s what Michonne said.”

 

“Well, there ya go. Y’can’t argue with Michonne. Damn woman knows everything.”

 

Carl made an agreeable, sleepy sound. “Y’know... Daryl? ‘Bout what you said earlier? Doesn’t bug me.. I think it’s good to be with someone who loves you. All that other stuff don’t matter.” There was a yawn. It was quiet for several more minutes. There was some rustling of cloth, like someone trying to get comfortable.

 

Rick jumped when he heard Carol’s voice, sounding not nearly as sleepy as it should have. “From the mouths of babes, huh? I think he’s out.”

 

“Yeah, I covered him up. Lil’ shit’s gonna have a head in the mornin’.”

 

Someone yawned. “‘That guy’? Something at that place?”

 

“Naw. Earlier.” Rick clearly heard the bottle hitting the floor, like someone set it down a little too hard. The liquid sloshed against the bottle.

 

“He okay?”

 

“Yeah. He will be.  He’s a tough kid.” There was a pause. “Rick fuckin’ gutted him.”

 

“Good. Speaking of Rick....”

 

“Oh hell no. You said yer piece already. I’m not gonna do nothin’ stupid.”

 

Rick suddenly felt guilty about listening, despite the fact that he desperately wanted to know what their conversation had switched to.  Listening to his kid talk, well, it was still an invasion of privacy, but it was his kid. Rick mentally shrugged. Invading Daryl’s privacy was something a lot different, and it made Rick uncomfortable to do it. Time for one more patrol, then his shift should be about over.

 

Rick moved quietly out into the rain. He checked the traps closest to the house, ignoring the complete deluge. Carl’s revelation made Rick all the more determined to get them someplace settled. He deserved to be able to do all that angsty teenager shit; falling in love, in lust  over and over again, until....

 

Rick frowned, hearing a branch snap in the distance. He froze, listening, then saw the flash of eyes before the opossum bounded away.  Damn. If Daryl had been here, they’d have opossum to eat.

 

_Daryl._

 

A switch in Rick’s head flipped.

 

Rick groaned, his body feeling way too hot for his skin. It was as though learning that Daryl’s sexuality was a lot more fluid than Rick had ever dreamed had sent his brain into overdrive. Two things occurred to him; both which made his body twitch in reaction.  The first was something that Rick had tried not to think about too carefully, trying to not think that about his best friend.  Before  Rick and Daryl had talked, he had felt.... guilty. Now he had felt... well. Something. Shit, he didn’t know _how_ he felt, but while Rick hadn’t exactly had avast majority of blowjobs in his life, the filthy way Daryl had sucked him off hadn’t seemed... unpracticed. Rick remembered Lori’s gagging when he thrusted too far into her mouth, or the embarrassment the first time her teeth had got him. Tiny, awkward things that spoke of her inexperience and nervousness. Daryl  though .... He had known exactly what he was doing and the thought of that sent Rick’s own dick thickening in his jeans.

 

Hot on the heels of _that_ thought was the sense memory of feeling that Daryl had been hard. Daryl had been getting off on either the idea of it, the weirdness of it... or on the fact that he was doing it.

 

Maybe all of that.

 

Rick stumbled, catching himself against a tree. He winced at the scrape of bark on his palm. The cold rain wasn’t doing anything to cool him off, and his brain couldn’t stop remembering it now: the way Daryl’s mouth had felt against him, or the way he’d held on to Rick for dear life while Rick had greedily thrust  his cock into Daryl’s--

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

There was a low whistle from the house and Rick jerked his gaze back towards the sound, startled. Shit, this was stupid. And dangerous. He was so lost in his head that three herds of the goddamned things could have jumped up behind him, and Rick wouldn’t have noticed.

 

Carol stood with her back to the cabin.  “You’re off duty, Rick. Come on in and get some sleep.”

 

Rick didn’t think that was gonna happen. Not with his dick as hard as it was. He didn’t bother forcing a smile since he knew Carol couldn’t see him clearly.  “No I just... I’ll be back.” He coughed. “ In a bit.” It dawned on him that he wasn’t going to get any relief inside, so he’d take what he could. Everyone else had splurged a little. Surely it would be okay of he... just this _once_ if he...

 

Rick ignored whatever she said in reply, focused only on moving deeper into the woods. He knew exactly where he wanted to go.

 

The last time he’d been at the cabin, Rick had not exactly felt up to sightseeing. Daryl had appeared from the back of the little backyard to holler at him for burying the family that had lived here.  Before Rick had almost literally fallen on his face asleep, Daryl had mentioned the ravine, and the lake.

 

It wasn’t far.

 

Rick wrapped his hand around himself on the outside of his jeans, groaning at the sensation. He hadn’t done this in... In...Damn. _._ ,Okay it had been awhile. The prison, in the darkness of his bed, afraid to be too loud in case he woke someone up.  A quick look showed the storm over a fairly large lake. The ravine was only about six feet or so, and Rick thought about  jumping down, then imagined being stuck down there until the rain stopped and his people mocking him for the next three hundred years. _Screw that. This’d work just fine._

 

He looked around, hearing how loud his breathing was over the sounds of the rain. Nothing. Thank god. He braced his shoulder against one of the larger tree trunks and trailed his fingers over himself through the denim. Rick sucked in a deep breath and shuddered, screwing his eyes shut.

 

_If Daryl were here, he’d.. He’d... he’d help him. His hand would be cold from the rain when he slid it through the zipper.  His voice would be low, tense when he asked--_

 

“You okay?”

 

Rick jumped and whirled, his gun materializing in his hand.

 

Daryl jumped back in shock, both hands held up in surrender. “ _Shit_ , man. What the _fuck_?” Even shocked, Daryl’s voice was a low whisper, careful not to alert anyone at the cabin.

 

“I. I was...” Rick’s mind went completely blank. In the darkness, all he could seem to focus on was Daryl’s face, eyes wide through his bedraggled bangs, his mouth... “I.”

 

His _mouth_. Rick only became aware that he had licked his lips when Daryl’s gaze sharpened on them with laser-like focus.

 

Daryl looked at him then moved closer, grabbing Rick’s shaking hand and slid the Colt from Rick’s cold fingers, gently engaging the safety before stepping forward to slide it back into its holster.

 

Rick gasped at Daryl’s touch. He felt like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. He didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on before, so desperate to get off.

 

“Rick...?”

 

“I...”

 

Daryl looked heavenward, rolling his eyes with a self-deprecating little snort. “This has been the _most_ fucked up day,” he muttered before taking another step forward into Rick’s space. Rick took a step backwards so that his back was flush against the tree bark.  “What do you need, Rick?” Daryl had obviously tried to keep his voice matter of fact, but the low thrum of grittiness made Rick shiver.

 

Rick just shook his head. “I. I can’t...” He couldn’t even string together _thoughts_ , and Daryl wanted him to use words?!

 

“You want to though. Look at ‘cha.” Daryl licked his lips, ducking his head so that his voice was even with Rick’s ear. He held out his hand so that it was only a few inches away from where Rick’s dick was outlined clearly by the wet denim in the occasional flash of lightning, teasing him with the thought of touching.

 

Rick blinked.  He wondered why Daryl had come after him when he’d had Carol there. Was this just sort of... did Daryl need this too? Just to get off with someone? “Doesn’t... mean.” His voice was low, barely discernable. It didn’t have to mean anything. Rick would take whatever Daryl wanted. He just needed something...

 

Daryl chuckled, sending little puffs of air against Rick’s earlobe. “I know. It doesn’t have to be some big thing.” Daryl’s lips brushed against the hollow behind Rick’s ear, just above his beard. “But I want...”

 

It finally occurred to Rick that Daryl was waiting for some kind of encouragement. ‘Yeah. _Fuck_ , yeah--” Daryl’s lips brushed against his and Rick jerked back in shock, his head hitting the tree with a _thunk._  He was just so startled that Daryl wanted to kiss him. In Rick’s head that was just something lovers did. Not.. whatever this was. Desperate stress relief, right? Not... not _that_. Daryl didn’t seem too surprised, instead running his mouth over the corner of Rick’s jaw and lower, over his neck, scraping his teeth when Rick moaned, arching towards Daryl’s mouth. Daryl moved closer so that one leg was between Rick’s and Rick saw stars.

 

Rick’s hand went to Daryl’s belt without actually thinking about it. There wasn’t some kind of process, like ‘hey maybe I should ask before I stick my hand down his pants.’ Nothing like that. Rick just did what he wanted, grinning darkly at the sound Daryl made when Rick’s hand wrapped around him. All at once he felt like the shift of power was a lot more even between the two of them.

  
Daryl scrambled at Rick’s jeans and Rick groaned when he dick sprang out. Daryl’s own hand wrapped around his thick length and Rick’s eyes rolled back in his head. It was so... _Jesus Christ,_ it was-

 

Okay, actually it was damn cold. They both jumped when the rain hit them and Daryl snorted a laugh. He moved so that he was closer, blocking the rain with his body and Rick was struck then that they were exactly the same height.  He could look directly into Daryl’s dark eyes from this distance.

 

Daryl did something with his hips, and then their cocks were together, Daryl’s hand stroking over both of them. Rick felt his knees go weak for a second before he joined him, tangling his fingers with Daryl’s so that they were both working together.  Daryl jerked his eyes down, watching, and Rick looked at him while he could, able to see the fine line of old scars on his face, the way Daryl’s teeth dug into the thin flesh of his lip.

 

Daryl thrust into their hands and Rick immediately caught on, using his other hand to pull Daryl into his body, reeling him in with a hand on his naked hip, digging his nails into the skin under the band of Daryl’s underwear.  Daryl made a strangled sound deep in his throat, and his forehead pressed into Rick’s shoulder as he came, spurting against their fingers. Rick tightened his grip a little around Daryl’s shaft, stripping quickly back and forth until Daryl pulled away with a grunt, too sensitive. The feel of Daryl’s breath against his neck made Rick shiver, and the sensation of Daryl’s hand on him made him start rocking his hips, thrusting into the slick tightness of Daryl’s fist. Daryl scraped his teeth over the cord in Rick’s neck and bit down, licking at the spot and sucking so that there’d be a mark.  Rick whined, moving his clean hand so it was around Daryl’s wrist, holding the one covered in Daryl’s come out to the side.

 

He didn’t last long.

 

He felt it, knew it was almost... that he just needed...Daryl twisted his wrist and Rick lost it, bucking and trembling as his body forgot anything like coordination, focusing on how amazing his orgasm felt. “ _Daryl_ ,” Rick moaned, low.

 

Daryl froze against him, then slowly relaxed, stepping back and dealing with his hand by simply holding it up to the rain. He tucked himself back in and zipped up, shooting Rick a smug little grin before turning and facing the woods. Rick was struck by the weird desire to lean forward and kiss Daryl’s smiling lips.

 

No. Daryl had said that this didn’t have to mean anything. Just a one off.

 

All told, it had been maybe ten minutes since Daryl had startled him. Long enough to be missed, anyway. Rick cleared his throat. “Well, at least this time nothing jumped out at us.” He pushed against the tree so he was standing up straight and zipped himself back into his jeans. His whole body felt energized, buzzed, like he’d taken a quick shot of whiskey.

 

Daryl grunted and stooped, pulling the strap of the gun on his shoulder. Rick hadn’t even noticed that he’d left his customary crossbow back at the cabin.  Daryl shut his eyes for a second, as though listening.

 

“So. Are we.. uh. Cool?”

 

Daryl’s eyes popped open, then narrowed, assessing. “Yeah.” He paused. “Cool. You ready to go back?”

 

Rick almost tripped. Oh, shit. “What about Carol?”

 

“What about her? Oh, I think she thinks you had to take a piss or something. I told her I’d keep an eye on ya.”

 

They walked for a few minutes in silence. “You ah. Did. Thanks by the way.”

 

Daryl snickered. “Man, you don’t gotta thank me. Here. Watch the trip. You’re lucky you didn’t set ‘em off the way you hightailed it out of here.”  Daryl stopped and let Rick step over it, then moved so they were both walking back to the cabin.

 

“Sorry I’ve just. Uh. Never...”

 

“Never gotten off with a guy. Yeah. Uh, no offence Rick, but I figured that out.”  

 

Rick gaped a little, worried for a split second that Daryl meant he was _bad_ at it. “No, not just that. Well, yeah, but not only that. I met Lori when I was seventeen. She’s the only--So uh, sorry if I am acting like a jackass or whatever.” Carol stood up when the two of them emerged from the treeline.  Rick made himself shut up, knowing he sounded like a complete and total asshole.

 

Rick saw Carol and stopped, feeling his skin crawl with.. something. “I’m gonna try to dry off some.” Rick cleared his throat. Daryl was staring at him with something a little like panic on his face. Rick didn’t want to screw up anything with Carol for him- he owed both of them that at the very least- so he made himself scarce. “See ya in the mornin.” Rick turned and walked towards Sasha, checking in and wringing what water he could out of his clothes.  

 

Rick could swear he heard Carol’s low, “So much for not doing anything stupid.” but Daryl didn’t respond, so maybe Rick imagined it. Rick checked on Carl, making sure he was still sleeping. Carl was curled close to the fire, with a blanket on top of him. He looked like he wouldn’t twitch if a gun went off.

 

Rick enjoyed the way his mind was just kind  of... quiet. There were plenty of problems, and they’d all probably hit tomorrow like a shitstorm tsunami, but for right now... it was quiet.

Sliding into his bedroll felt like perfection. It was warm in the cabin and Michonne had set him up a little space to sleep near her.  He heard Daryl and Carol talking with low voices, and finally drifted off to sleep listening to the steady rain and the low growl of thunder in the distance.

 

TBC!

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, story updates will slow down from here on out. I'm hoping to be able to stick to a four day turnaround, but... ya never know. It might be less, it might be a few days more.
> 
> Please don't forget to subscribe (if you have an ao3 account) and you'll get email notifications when I post! 
> 
> And, as always, please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought!


	13. Chapter 13

Rick smelled coffee. His eyes opened and for a second he thought he was dreaming, until Michonne turned over, her hair swishing against his arm. Rick sat up slowly, looking around for the source. It was dim in the early dawn of the morning. Rick could see various unmoving lumps around the floor. He squinted, then wiped the crust out of his eyes with a grimace. 

From his vantage point, he could see the ladder to the loft. Tyreese and Sasha had squeezed into the space next to Eugene and Tara. All four of them looked like they could sleep for a good bit longer. 

Rick’s eyes cast around for Daryl, and found him and Carol snuggled together. The immediate spike of jealousy was squashed with a resigned sigh. Rick knew he was just gonna have to get used to this. Daryl might have gone to him to get off, but he was pretty obviously with Carol for the... emotional stuff. It was kind of cute, if Rick could manage to look without chewing on his liver. Carol had her head pillowed on Daryl’s arm, and was curled on her side. Daryl was once again big spoon, and Rick felt goosebumps on his exposed arms at the sense memory of Daryl pressed up against him just like that. Daryl’s hand was on her hip, with his other arm under Carol’s neck like a pillow. 

Glenn had leaned up against the wall near the fireplace, and Maggie sat slumped against him, with her back to his front. He was holding a cup of what Rick guessed was coffee, and they would occasionally share sips. Rick’s brows furrowed. He thought Glenn had the last shift...?

Rick heard the low whistle that meant ‘minimal danger, leaving post’, and he rolled up to his feet, checking that his knife was still on him. Michonne peeked up at him with one brown eye, but Rick just shook his head, glad that they had gone over whistle signals on the walk to the cabin. 

“I got it.” 

Michonne yawned in response, but Rick could tell that she was up. She turned towards Glenn and Maggie like a bloodhound with a scent. Glenn snorted and started to pour her some coffee, while Maggie got up with Rick. They both left the cabin on light feet, falling into a routine they’d done hundreds of time. There were only four walkers, coming from between the kudzu driveway and the east. Abraham had already killed one, and Rick and Maggie jumped in to help. It was fairly simple, all told. Between the three of them, they even managed to keep out of the spray from the dead being knifed in the head. 

“Guess one of the trips are down. This is the second group I had to clear out. I sent Glenn in to wake everyone up, figured we’d get goin’.” 

Rick didn’t care for that at all. He finished wiping off his knife in the grass, then carefully sheathed it before responding. “I know you’re new to our group, and from what Maggie and Glenn say, y’all are good people.” Rick smiled a cold smile. “But you. will. not. make decisions for this group without consultin’ me first.” 

Rick saw Abraham tense, watching his eyes to see if he’d go for his weapon. Instead, the bigger man took a slow, deep breath and forced himself to back off, shaking his head. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry if I stepped in there, but I’m not the kind of guy that steps back and lets others decide for him.” Abraham smirked a little ironically. “It won’t happen again. You’re in charge- I get that. But, Rick, what if I were to tell you that we have the end to all of this.” He gestured around them, somehow taking in their entire landscape. “‘Cuz we do. Eugene is the key to ending all of this forever. He knows how to fuck up these undead pricks, and to do it, he needs your help.”

Rick’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. He thought idly that it would be nice if he’d had coffee first. then at least maybe Abraham wouldn’t seem so crazy. “Eugene, huh?”

Maggie smiled. “Yeah, I know he doesn’t look like much. But he’s a scientist, Rick. He knows how to stop this!” 

Rick cocked his head, resting his hands on his gunbelt. “Huhnnm.” He couldn’t help but be skeptical. He scratched his beard, looking from Abraham to Maggie and back. “Right now, my priority is to get away from here. I heard Bob say something about y’all wanting to go to Washington D.C.. I ain’t sayin’ yes, and I ain’t sayin’ no. But it just makes sense to move in the same direction for as long as we can.” Rick finished cleaning off his knife and turned back towards the cabin. By the time the three of them got back to the house, his son was stirring on his makeshift bed by the fire. 

Carl’s hangover was, indeed, epic. 

Because Rick’s people were complete assholes, everyone managed to make as much noise as possible. Abraham didn’t have to try very hard. His Army issue Vibrams  
clumpclump clumped around the wooden floor of the cabin like a herd of elephants. Either Carol or Sasha must have filled him in once they headed to bed, and he clearly thought it was hilarious. Glenn and Maggie, who had managed to make the coffee in almost complete silence, both started clanking around with the coffee pot (It was instant coffee and there was no cream, but there also wasn't a double mocha latte anywhere around either, so Rick thought that he could deal.) Carl groaned and flopped gingerly back down onto the floor, sticking his pillow over his head. 

Carol and Daryl were up and stretching. Rick gave a sleepy Carol a tight smile and went downstairs, deciding to rescue Judith from the den of depravity. His daughter was still sleeping, so Rick just picked up the whole basket, noting with a grin that someone had scribbled ‘Lil’ Asskicker’ on the plastic with a black sharpie. 

Without the barrels there, the basement was much roomier. Rick’s smile grew to see that they had put Judith’s basket in the far corner of the basement. There would have been mattresses and people between Judith and both the interior and exterior doors. Rosita was still sacked out in the middle mattress, oblivious to Rick’s walking around. 

He made it up the stairs before remembering that he’d left Judith’s diaper bag downstairs. Rick rolled his eyes and went to fetch it, noting absently that there were four cans of formula in there, two extra bottles, some cloth diapers, and quite a few disposable diapers. She had baby powder and a half-empty bottle of tearless shampoo in the other pocket. For some reason the sight of it made Rick’s throat tighten. He would never, ever be able to repay Carol and Tyreese for what they’d done for him and his family. 

By the time Rick made it back to Judith’s impromptu crib, Judith was sitting up and staring at everyone with a somewhat drooly smile. 

“We need’ta fill up the water, strip the place, and move out.” Rick noted that everyone seemed to be up, and already working on packing things up. Bob had found two more backpacks, so between them, they had Judith’s, Tyreese’s, Carol’s, Rick’s, Daryl’s, Carl’s and Michonne’s backpacks, plus the large blue duffel that had their arsenal of weapons. Tara ducked her head as she walked by Rick to go downstairs, hiding her face. Rick knew that he was going to have to nip that in the bud here pretty quickly, but now was not the time...not when they were burnin’ daylight. 

“Hey, Carl,” Michonne said sweetly, “Do you want creamed spinach or lima beans for breakfast?” 

Carl made a sound that sounded suspiciously like ‘hurrk’ and bolted for the door. 

“I’ll get Judith,” Tyreese said, and Rick started for the door. Tyreese took the diaper bag and stooped to pick Judith up, kissing her forehead and moving over to the small kitchen counter to take care of her wet diaper. 

“Hey,” Daryl’s voice made Rick stop a second, a strange tendril of fear wrapping itself around Rick’s chest. He turned, and Daryl tossed him a full water bottle. 

“Thanks.” 

Daryl just nodded.

Rick forced himself to meet Daryl’s eyes with a nod back, told himself that he was being an idiot, and followed his son. Carl was bent over in the bushes near where Rick had been on watch, throwing up everything he’d probably ever eaten since conception.

Rick noted with a small smirk that Carl’d come out without his hat, but had a knife in his hand. Rick waited until Carl was finished- there were some truly touching father/son bonding moment opportunities, but puking was for damn sure not one of them- then brushed his hand on Carl’s shoulder. 

“Feel better?”

“Actually, yeah.” Carl gave a wan smile and took some of the water, pouring it into his mouth and swishing it around a few times before spitting, then taking a small sip. He groaned, putting two fingers to his head and pressing. Rick let him see his grin. 

“So, this is the part where I skip the I-told-you-sos, but mention that you are gonna eat something, then go see what you can do to help out... followed very soon by a highly scenic walking tour of the wilds of eastern Georgia.” 

Carl nodded very, very carefully, squinting up at his dad. “Is that my eyes or does your hair really look like that?”

Rick raised one eyebrow, bringing his hands up to his head. 

It was Carl’s turn to grin. “You’ve got that mountain man thing goin’ for you. Interesting look.” 

“I ain’t out here to impress anyone,” Rick knew he sounded grumpy. Sometimes he hated having curly hair. Rick had been so buzzed after he and Daryl... after he came in from the rain that Rick had slept on it, without drying it off first. It was a silly thing to be vain about, considering, but it was hard to trust and respect someone who looked like a goddamn Chia Pet. 

He walked over to one of the barrels, after making sure that it wasn’t the one they were using for drinking and ducked his head, flipping his hair back with a gasp of shock. The rain last night had been cold, so the water in the barrels was damn near freezing, and the early morning air even colder. 

Well, he was definitely awake anyway. 

Carl squeaked when he followed Rick’s example, but at least there was some color to his face. Rick tugged off his shirt and used it to do a quick wash before draping it over his gun belt, making sure that he could still get at his knife and gun with no trouble. The air was brisk, but it would be easily 90 degrees before noon, if yesterday was anything to go by. Rick scrubbed his hands through his hair and tried to finger comb it a bit back into submission. About the best he could do was slick it back some. 

“Do I have to eat... that? Stuff Michonne said?” 

Rick snorted. “Naw. I think there’s oatmeal. You’ll feel better with something in your gut though.” 

Just about everyone had spilled out into the front area. There were three piles of things they’d scrounged- food, weapons, and extras. Rick brought his hands up, folded his fingers together and stretched his arms out over his head, rotating the stiffness out of his shoulders. 

“Hey--- Rick, Carol wants to knoo--whoa.”

Rick cocked his head, staring at Maggie a little oddly. She was kneeling with two cans in her hands, staring up at Rick with her mouth open. Most everyone else in the yard had stopped what they were doing, staring at Rick with varying degrees of shock on their faces. 

Rick actually looked behind him to see what they were staring at. He brought his arms down, grabbing his knife. There wasn’t anything behind him. He turned back around, completely baffled. Glenn glanced at Rick, rolled his eyes, then flicked his wife on the back of her head. 

Michonne who was standing on the corner of the house, looked a lot like she was trying not to laugh. She pointed at Rick, then brought her own hand to the stretch of tummy below her belly button. 

Rick looked down, then rolled his eyes so hard he was afraid that he had sprained them. He felt his cheeks flame with color. His nipples had reacted to the cool air and water by hardening. As an extra insult to injury, the weight of his shirt on his gun belt had pushed the slightly too-big jeans down on his hips. If the belt hadn’t been there, Rick would have been flashing his pubic hair to his captive audience.

“Y’all really need a life.” Rick grumbled, then stuck his shirt back on, feeling like an idiot.

Carol snorted. “You need a few extra meals. You’re all skin and bone, isn’t he Daryl?” 

Daryl glared. “I guess. Y’alll plannin’ on lightin’ a fire under ya asses at any point this morning?” 

“Who still needs to eat?” Bob stuck his head out of the door. “Oatmeal’s ready.” 

The group halved again, managing to pack the usable supplies and feed themselves in under twenty minutes. Rick borrowed Michonne’s map and pointed out their route with one hand, shoveling food in his mouth with the other. 

“We’re gonna wanna swing way out to avoid the herd from Terminus. No big roads. We stick to county roads when we can, or walk through the woods if we need to. We’re goin’ northeast, towards Athens. Now, Maggie, Daryl, you both know that area, right? 

Maggie nodded. “Yeah. I went to school there, but I mostly stayed on campus unless I came home.”

Daryl shrugged. “Me n’ Merle lived little further north, near Lake Lanier. But we moved ‘round, some, so I’m familair with lots of that area.” 

“Anyone else?” Rick didn’t think so, but he thought it wise to check. Eugene, Abraham, and Rosita were from Texas, or thereabouts, Tara was from near Griffon, Sasha and Tyreese were from Jacksonville, Florida. Bob was pretty closemouthed on where he lived before everything went to shit. Having any advantage, even something as small as someone familiar with the terrain would be invaluable. 

Tyreese shifted Judith to his hip. She squawked, more interested in Tyreese’s finger than the spoon with the tiny bit of oatmeal on it. “Why north?” He shrugged. “I don’t care, but why not west, or further east?” 

Rick locked eyes with Abraham. “Let’s call it a ... compromise. Spring’ll be here soon enough, and we know that the cold slows ‘em down. Without walls, I’m willing to take any advantage that I can.” He frowned. “Shit. I’d really like some cars.” 

Daryl snorted. “Not a chance. Those fuckers had to have scoured this area for miles around, if they’ve been ‘round as long as that asshole said they were. We need to be movin’ and we need to go soon, man. We can talk on the way.” 

Rick was left with the very uncomfortable thought that perhaps this place wasn’t as secure as he thought. It could have easily belonged to some of the Terminus residents. There had been eight people living here, but no weapons. No evidence of hunting. The Kudzu had been almost pristine until they started tramping through it. 

Rick was left with the nauseating realization that the cabin’s former residents might have had so many canned goods for a very macabre reason. He cleared his throat. “Daryls right. Alright then. Let’s get goin’. Distribute the packs evenly; better shots on the outside. We leave in ten.” 

“Aw, shit.” Rick said, frowning. 

Everyone looked at him. 

“I didn’t get any damn coffee!”

Their laughter was bright in the early morning, and Rick couldn’t help but hope that it was some sort of omen for the rest of their trip.

****  
It was a clusterfuck.

They were attacked outside of some small, two-bit gas station. It was Eugene that recognized one of the citizens from Terminus, and things got real ugly, real quick.

Daryl took out two before most of them even got their weapons, Rick managed two others before their opposition opened fire. 

There were only ten people, but they did a lot of damage. Rosita got very lucky with a shot that only grazed her temple, and after she dropped to the pavement, Abraham went a little crazy. He didn’t even seem human as he strangled the man who shot her in the head. His bare hands had seemed huge around the man’s throat, lifting him almost up over his head. 

Rick’s people had scant cover. Every time someone would pop up to shoot, several of the Terminus people would open fire. Bob saved their asses by managing to sneak around to flank them, and with two other shooters dead, Carol, Michonne and Carl were able to take out the rest. 

The realization that the people from Terminus had found them once and could do so again made every single member of Rick’s group react with a little more edginess. They went on even higher alert, stopping only at places they could defend, keeping to a six-person perimeter watch twice a night. 

The problem was that their luck had ran out with supply runs. Food was scarce, and Rick’s people were hungry. Daryl helped with hunting, and kept them from starving, but their canned goods ran out quickly with so many people relying on them. The days were hot, and dehydration was an issue, although not much of one since they left the road for awhile when they found a creek. 

They camped by the river. They had a routine by now, setting up quickly and efficiently. They had a fire to cook the food and boil water, and that was it. It was out almost immediately after, so the light wouldn’t draw any attention. They got used to seeing by moonlight. Rick sat down with a grunt, stretching his legs out and making sure Judith was fed. She was sleepy enough to take the bottle with no problems. Rick worried constantly about proper nutrition for all of them, but especially for his baby girl. The formula would work for awhile, but he wasn’t sure what they’d do when it ran out and they couldn’t find more. Worry about it then, he supposed.

With all the time on the road, Rick had had ample time to get his head straight about everything. It helped that Daryl hadn’t acknowledged their time together by so much as a significant look, no more than Rick had done. The... sex; it was intense, and very, very good, but it was not... important. Not in the way their friendship was important. Not the way their friendship was vital. Rick's gaze caught on Daryl, idly poking the minuscule campfire with a stick. Tara wandered up and sat beside him with a little smile. Daryl said something low to her and she nodded, staring down at her knees. Rick was too far away to hear.

That night, Daryl had said that it had been a ‘fucked up day,’ and Rick got that. It had been. Daryl had been absolutely terrified when they were locked up in that fucking freezer, and Rick had only kept his shit together because Daryl had needed him to be calm. That had to have been difficult for someone like Daryl to come to terms with: going from aloof, loner badass to needing human contact so badly that he's shown a side of himself Rick had never seen- not even after losing Merle or Sophia. So Rick didn’t put much stock in the fact that Daryl was more apt to bite someone’s head off then talk to them. They all were in the same boat. Being exhausted, hungry, and scared made for squabbles. Add in the thread of walkers, and it was completely understandable.

Even after, in the woods, that had just been... a moment. An opportunity. Rick had...and Daryl had... and that was it. Carol was back, and somehow Daryl had forgiven Rick, or at least wasn’t as actively pissed off for what Rick had done to her at the prison. Daryl and Carol had always had a connection, and... it was good. Rick’s stomach squirmed at the thought, but he ignored it. That was good. Finding anyone out here, in all this shit, it was good. 

Almost as though she was summoned, Carol sat down beside him on the log. She offered him some pecans with a half-smile. 

Rick frowned internally, then mentally told himself to stop being such a pussy and opened his mouth. “Carol... I’ve been meanin’ to. I just... I owe you everything. “ Rick looked down at Judith and his throat choked up.

“You owe Tyreese. He was at the prison.” Carol’s voice got that funny sort of waver it did whenever they discussed Rick’s banishment. 

“You got back there.” She did. Rick had thought it through a hundred times. Carol had to have been on her way back to the prison for the timing to work out. Otherwise, it was just too much of a coincidence. Carol shrugged, pressing her lips together. “Hnhnm.” Rick wanted to reach out to her, but didn’t know if she would let him. “ I still don't know about what you did... but I know you knew some things I didn't. I sent you away to this--” 

“You said I could survive. You were right.”

No. That was fate. Rick didn’t think much of god, but if he could trust anything it was his people. Carol came back to them, brought him Judith. “I sent you away to this and now we're joining you.” Rick wanted to give her some of the acknowledgement for what she had done. She deserved it, and more. “Will you have us?”

Carol nodded, eyes wide and tear-filled. 

“Thank you. “ Rick smiled. “It ain’t much, right now, but know that I will do everything for you. Anything to make up for... for what I did.” 

Carol shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything, Rick. And... it’s a lot, right now. Being with this many people. I guess I got used to... “ she trailed off. “Less hassle.” 

Rick looked at her sharply. He’d noticed the way she had closed herself off from the others, except for Daryl who wouldn’t let her, and Tyreese, who Rick could see absolutely revered her. She’d even pulled back from Judith a little. Carol shrugged and forced a smile. He wanted to ask her what had happened to her, but thought that would be a little ironic considering the circumstances. It wasn’t his business, and all he could do is hope that she told him in her own time. 

“You know, I’m not the only person that you probably need to talk to, you know.” Carol’s voice was soft as she looked over at Daryl and Tara. 

Rick nodded. He switched Judith to his shoulder to burp her. She was almost too big for this, but food was too precious to worry about getting sick. He knew that. He and been avoiding conversing with Tara since they’d escaped Terminus. Rick didn’t like to let that sort of stuff sit and fester. Better to take care of that, too. Carol held out her arms, and Rick handed her over. Carol had some magic touch... or knew some kind of baby voodoo because as soon as Judith was in Carol’s arms she passed out. 

“Yep. You’re right. ‘Scuse me.” Rick leaned over to give Judith a sleepy kiss on the back of her head then got up. As soon as he started walking in their direction, Daryl looked up with that weird sort of second sense they shared. Rick always seemed to know where Daryl was in relation to himself. Initially, it was due to them working in tandem. Now though... it was just a fact of life. The sun was bright, the dead walked the Earth, and he and Daryl had trusted each other. 

“Hey.”

Rick ignored the way Daryl’s voice made his stomach feel. It would settle down eventually, this residual awkwardness. He just had to just push through it. 

Tara bit her lip, obviously getting ready to leave. 

“Hey, Daryl. We good on tonight’s watch?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t we be?”

Rick winced inwardly. Obviously things were fine, or they would have handled them already. It had been a dumbass thing to say. Tara obviously guessed that Rick wanted to talk to Daryl instead of her, and started to leave the little log by the fire. 

“Hey, hold up a sec. Tara.” 

Rick felt even more like a horse’s ass for putting a very simple conversation off for so long. She looked up at him, not like a perp who had done something illegal, but like a kid who had disappointed someone they respected. It was hard to remember that she really wasn’t all that much older than Beth or Carl. 

He gentled his voice. “ Hey now, none of that. I haven’t said anything ‘cuz it’s been a bit hectic, but that was a shitty thing to do to you an’ I’m sorry. Yeah, I remember you, but I don’t blame you. You didn't want to be there. That's why I tried to talk to you. Glenn told me you saved his life.”

“ He saved mine.” Her voice was soft and unsure, like she didn’t want to believe that she was forgiven. 

“That's how it works with us, right?“

“Right.” A bright, shy smile lit up her pretty features. “Hey.” She held out her fist for a fistbump, that same hopeful puppy look on her face. 

Rick chuckled, bumping her fist with his. “ Get something to eat,” he said, squashing the urge to ruffle her hair. 

When Rick turned around, Daryl wasn’t there. Rick scanned the small group. Carl, Sasha, Bob, Rosita, Maggie and Glenn all had started the perimeter watch. Eugene and Abraham were in the process of bunking down. Tyreese was rocking Judith, Michonne was finishing her portion of squirrel, Tara was helping herself to some food... which meant that he had disappeared. 

With Carol. 

Judith made a sleepy noise as she fell asleep in her basket. Rick smoothed his hand down over her head. Tyreese looked over at him with a little smile, “She’s still cute, even with all this crazy shit. She’s gonna grow out of that basket soon enough.” 

Rick nodded, bunking down (if you could call digging a little divot in the dirt for your body ‘bunking down’, given they had no blankets or sleeping bags), trying not to notice how long it was before Daryl and Carol came back together from the woods.

It was a long time before he managed to fall into a fitful sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N:  I made up the town that they’re in for this part of the story, but in my mind it’s near Cornelia (North of Atlanta and a little northeast of Lake Lanier.) *shrug* That would mean they could drive to Grady in just under four hours, which is doable. ( **Cough** this is the part where you tell me I’ve thought too much about this.) (Psst. There’s a tiny cameo in this, but if you blink you’ll miss it.)

 

* * *

 

 

Rick didn’t trust Father Gabriel.  

 

The man sat, slumped in a chair near the altar, staring off into space.  The sounds of  Abraham working on the bus rang through the balmy day. They were just about to head into the little town on a supply run.  Upon arrival at the church, the group had quickly divvied up. Abraham, Eugene and Rosita were in the back of the church yard, scrounging supplies and attempting to fix up the vehicle.  Rick knew that he’d just about ran out of time on that front.  He’d have to make a decision about DC soon, but right now the prospect of a night of relative safety and possible food was too good to pass up.

 

Maggie, Tara, and Glenn had gone into town to scavenge for anything they could use as weapons.  When Tara had asked to borrow a phone book, every single member of their group had given her a weird look, but when she had blushingly responded that it made sense to start at a pawn shop or a gun store, Rick had nodded.  Gabriel had found her one and looking at her thumb through the yellow pages had seemed like such an anachronism that they had all gotten a little nostalgic. It had been a strange thought- Tara was young enough that she would have just Googled the information. Most people her age didn’t think to go to a phone book first. Or at least the secretary at Rick’s station hadn’t. If she couldn’t find the information online, then she was completely stymied.

 

Daryl and Carol had gone for water. Rick expected them back any minute. He was going to ask if they’d stay here with Tyreese, just in case.

 

Rick looked around the church yard, frowning. Surely, _surely_ they had all gone far enough to escape any of the Terminus survivors. Rick rubbed the top of his nose, squinting a little as he thought.  Daryl had made sure they’d varied their path through the woods, and while a car would have gotten them out quicker, it also would have taken more time to scrounge gas and move blocked vehicles out of the way.  On foot, they weren’t as confined to roads.

 

Still, Rick did not trust Gabriel and f _uck_ if he leave the man here with his children. Tyreese had volunteered to stay too, but Rick was counting on Carl to step up and help with defending the church if anyone came around while he, Sasha, Bob and Michonne ran to town.

 

It wasn’t the way the man begged for help. They’d seen enough of that, and humanity trumps the dead whenever they could do it without exposure to themselves.  It wasn’t the fact that Gabriel had puked at the brutal violence of their guys taking out the walkers that had cornered him, although that was certainly suspect. It had been almost two years (give or take a month) since the outbreak. How was it possible that the priest was still so affected by violence?  But walking back towards Gabriel’s church... that was when things really started to not add up.

 

Gabriel’s words had rung in Rick’s head.  “ _Or maybe I'm lying. Maybe I'm lying about everything and there's no church ahead at all. Maybe I'm leading you into a trap so I can steal all your squirrels.”_

 

Rick remembered stopping still, fighting not to draw his gun. His fingers had twitched on the grip of the Colt.  Without looking, Rick could see that his people felt the tension too.  Maybe they had picked up on his. Either way, Rick knew that he wasn’t the only one reacting that way. At his side, Daryl  had tensed so abruptly that it looked painful.

 

 _“Ah, members of my flock had often told me that my sense of humor leaves much to be desired_.” It wasn’t the words that had made Rick stand down, but the fact that Gabriel was completely oblivious to the danger that he had put himself in. He did not see Rick with his hand on his gun, or the way Daryl was leaning forward just a little in preparation to swing his bow into action, or even the way Maggie eased back slightly to make sure Rick had room to maneuver: all tiny little tells that spoke of a long time using their skills, using violence, to survive.

 

“Yeah, it does,” Rick said shortly. At his words his people had eased down.  Blithely, Gabriel had turned to lead his way back to the church.  

 

The white building had looked so peaceful.  Rick didn’t trust that peace for a minute.

 

Rick huffed out an impatient breath. They had to go soon or they were going to lose the light.  Shit.  He walked over to where Carl was sitting with his sister, changing her diaper.  Judith seemed to be enraptured with the silver ends of the cord on Carl’s hat and her giggles made him smile.  That would help actually, with what he wanted to say to his son.  Rick crouched down so that he was on eye-level with Carl.

 

“Hey, dad.”

 

“Hey.” Rick gave the priest a sidelong look, but the man’s focus was inward. “Look, you’re sure that you’re okay with  staying here? Daryl and Carol’ll probably show up eventually.”

 

Carl nodded.

 

“I don't trust this guy. And that's why I'm bringing him with me. But he could have friends. So I need you to stay alert and help Tyreese protect Judith, okay? Now... I need you to hear what I'm about to say.”

 

Carl cocked his head in a very familiar way.  “ Okay.”  

 

Rick would have smiled if it hadn’t been so serious. “You are not safe. No matter how many people are around or how clear the area looks, no matter what anyone says, no matter what you think, you are not safe. It only takes one second. One _second_ and it's over. Never let your guard down, ever. I want you to promise me.”

 

“I promise.”

 

“Okay.” Rick took a slow, steadying breath. “I called you a man before, but I think you had some growin’ to do. Experiences make you strong, Carl, and you’re just as strong as any of us.”

 

Carl’s lips stretched in a small smile. “Dad. You're right. I am strong. We both are. But we're strong enough that we can still help people.” He glanced over to Gabriel. “And we can handle ourselves if things go wrong. And we're strong enough that we don't have to be afraid and we don't have to hide.”

 

Rick had to blink for a second, overwhelmed with love for his boy. Some of that was him, but a lot of that? A lot of that was Lori. “Well, Good,” he managed, barely.

 

And, god, how she’d be so fiercely proud.

 

* * *

The whistle made Rick’s heart simply stop.

 

His anxiety about missing Daryl, Carol and Bob had ratcheted up so much that it was obvious to anyone that looked at him that Rick was losing it.  Were they together?  Had Gabriel done something? Was it connected?

 

The whistle was for ‘help!’, and there was only one. Had it been repeated, there would be two people, or again for three. They had three people missing (Rick refused to think, ‘dead’) and only one whistle.

 

There was a second while everyone in the church looked at each other for a panicked breath, then they moved into action, ignoring Gabriel and his tearful confession. There was time for that later.  Rick, Michonne, Sasha and Tyreese were out the door in the dark, registering the low growling grunts of the walkers before Rick had fully processed his panic.

 

Whoever it was, was hurt.  They were slumped in the yard, and bleeding enough that he’d led walkers to them. Rick had never been so ashamed of himself as he was  at the honest-to-god _relief_ he felt when he saw Bob’s crumpled body on the dirt. There had been a quick spurt of _notDaryl!_ before Rick moved into action, lifting Bob until someone else could help him inside.

 

Rick’s gun was in his hand in a flash, shooting all of them until there wasn’t a twitch left. Six dead. He reloaded and turned to where Tyreese and Abraham had yanked Bob inside the church.

 

Rick caught his breath, staring into the woods. His senses told him they were not alone, but Carl’s terrified, “ _Dad_!” caused him to whirl back, gun extended in front of him.  Carl was pointing at something on the church wall.

 

A huge red ‘A’ was painted in blood, glinting malevolently in the light from the moon.

 

Rick almost staggered.  It was a shock, but at the same time, part of him must have expected it. Terminus. The fuckers had locked them into a boxcar, marked with an A on it. _Grade A meat._

 

Rick wanted to vomit. Bob was missing a leg.  It wasn’t walkers like they’d thought. They were here. They had eaten Bob and they were fucking here.

 

“Get inside! Go! ” Rick almost pushed Carl and Michonne inside, heart pounding.  If they had put Bob there, then they were close. If they were close, then his people weren’t safe. Carol and Daryl were missing, these people... what if. Bob was eaten, _whatifwhatifwhatif--_

 

Rick forced himself to calm down. Sasha was trembling, not sure how to help Bob first.  When he refused the scant medical treatment they had Rick started to get a bad feeling.  Even worse was the way that he’d obviously had medical attention; the tourniquet was still around his thigh and the stump had been bandaged fairly expertly.  No one could ignore the way his leg was still bloody, or the way he twitched in place, trying not to move. Rick felt like it was happening to someone else as he saw Bob’s bite.  It got very, very quiet in the church.

 

“I was in the graveyard. Somebody knocked me out. I woke up outside this place. It looked like a school. “ Bob’s voice got more panicked as he spoke, words falling over themselves in their haste to exit his mouth. “It was that guy, Gareth. And five other ones. They were eating my leg right in front of me!”

 

Rick heard someone’s gasp of shock.

 

“-- Like it was _nothing_. All proud like they had it all figured out. Those _fuckers_!”

 

“Did they have Daryl and Carol?” Rick felt that cold, burning anger again. He would go. Michonne, and Maggie. Glenn. They would find these sadistic pricks, _and get their people ba--_

 

“Gareth said they drove off.”

 

Wait. What?

 

Rick blinked, Bob’s words echoing in his head.  He was very aware that Michonne was staring at him, but he kept his gaze on Bob, helped Tyreese move him to Gabriel’s office so that at least he was comfortable on the couch for the rest of his time here.

 

Rick didn’t have time to think of why Daryl or Carol had left them.  They weren’t safe here and needed to make a plan to draw Gareth’s people out.  Rick squeezed Bob’s good shoulder, nodding when Bob gave him a helpless, wry twist of his lips.  He’d have time to fall apart later. Right now he needed to be focused.

 

Rick brushed Sasha’s arm, trying to show her that he was with her, that they would find some way to make this right.

 

Abraham was waiting for him in the vestibule. “Time for a reality check. We all need to leave for DC _right now.”_

 

The fuck if they did. “Daryl and Carol are gonna be back. We're not going anywhere without them.”

 

Abraham had started to gather the stuff that belonged to Rosita and Eugene. “I  respect that, but there's a clear threat here to Eugene. I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y'all won't come, good luck to you. We'll go our separate ways.” Abraham made it all the way to the vestibule in three large strides.

 

Rick had a second of panic. No. That wouldn’t work. WIth three people down, he needed Abraham’s party or this would go south. This was a clear situation of more people equating to more safety. “You leaving on foot?” Rick knew his voice was low, but this bullshit was just not gonna happen.

 

“We fixed that damn bus ourselves.”

 

“There are a lot more of us,” Rick’s voice was a threat. Abraham wasn’t stupid. He’d figure it out.

 

“You want to keep it that way? You should come. “

 

“Carol saved your  _life_. We saved your life.”

 

“Well, I am trying to save yours. Save everyone's.” Abraham’s voice was low. The man had drawn himself to his considerable height and was standing there, fist twitching at his side, using some sort of preternatural calm to keep from reacting to Rick’s words.

 

“We're not going anywhere without our people.”  Rick took a step forward.

 

“Your people took _off_.” Abraham heaved the duffel over his shoulder.

 

Rick could see that everyone had frozen, watching the two of them yell at each other. Eugene looked like he was about to say something, but whatever words he had were kept in check by Abraham’s fury. Rosita wouldn’t look at anyone.  Rick felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest.  Daryl was coming back. With Carol. Both of them. They wouldn’t.... no. If they just up and took off like that then there had to be a reason. “They're coming back!”

 

“To what, picked-over bones?!” Abraham towered over Rick, not stepping back.

 

“You're not taking--” Rick grabbed Abraham’s arm, desperation coloring his words enough to touch him. He just had to make this guy see reason---

 

“Do not lay hands!”

 

Rick froze at the feel of a gun in his gut. His eyes narrowed. He was very, very aware of Carl and Judith in the room behind him.

 

“Now, normally if someone pulls a gun on me, they best use it. But. This is on me. I shouldn’t have grabbed you.” Rick forced himself to stand down, to step back. Abraham had just as much of a right to protect his people as Rick did. “You guys go, if you’re goin’. But that bus stays with us.”

 

Rick turned on his boot heel and stalked back inside the church, furious at himself. He’d fucked that all up. He kicked at a corner of a pew, hunching his shoulders in on himself, giving his anger some kind of outlet. He heard Glenn and Abraham talking in the background, the echoes of the vestibule disguising the words, if not the tone.  Glenn was placating, Abraham still pretty pissed.  He couldn’t have screwed that up more if he’d planned it all out in advance.  Rick knew Abraham’s type. Abraham reminded him a lot of Shane- before Shane turned into the batshit insane version that had tried to murder him. Abraham was focused, friendly enough as long as you weren’t working against him, and protective as hell about his people.  Rick understood that. He’d reacted stupidly, emotionally instead of using his goddamn brain.

 

“-- Rick?”

 

Maggie touched his elbow, offering her sweet half-smile. Rick turned and raised his eyebrows in question.  “Well, you got us for tonight. Abraham, Eugene and Rosita too, but you’re not gonna like the terms of our help.”

 

Rick was pretty sure he could guess.  Either way, now was not the time for that. They had to act fast before Gareth and his little fucked up group stormed in.  Right now, they had the numbers, and from what Bob said, that gave Rick’s people the advantage. He needed to give Gareth a reason to  _think_ he was in control.

 

Rick turned to everyone, a cold smile on his lips. “Thanks, Maggie, Glenn.  We need you and there’s no one I trust more to have my back.  Now... I have an idea.”

 

Abraham still looked a little flushed from their argument, but once he was in, he was all in. Rick saw him fidget with the strap of his AK-47, stroking his long fingers over the handle before redirecting his focus towards Rick.  

 

“Here’s the thing: They think they're in control. We're in here and they could be anywhere. But we know exactly where they are. They want us. They’re taunting us, and they think they are calling the shots.”

 

Eugene whistled.  “It’s a strategy worthy of that menace to the Greycoats, Bloody Bill Anderson, himself.”

 

Abraham nodded. “Plan's got stones, I'll give you that. Make our move before they do.”

 

“That's right. They're not counting on us thinking straight.” Rick started pacing, thinking of who should go, and who he could trust to stay.

 

“Are we?” Rosita piped up. I’m just making sure. It's a big play.”

 

Rick kept himself from reacting to her doubt. He couldn’t blame her really. In the span of ten minutes, she’d gone from turning tail and running to D.C., to staying and making a stand. “Remember what these people are capable of.”

 

Rick saw the resolve in every single person’s face.  He outlined the rest of the plan, putting people in place. Eugene’s comment wasn’t exactly wrong. Before all of this, Rick fancied himself a bit of a Civil War buff. He’d occasionally gone to reenactments, tried to get Carl interested. Rick even had had a group of people he’d corresponded with; an email here, a text there when someone was going to be in town. Lee had known more little factoids than any of their little “War Group,” as Lori had called it, and he’d been the first person to tell Rick about Bloody Bill. Guerrilla warfare at its finest. Given what Rick hoped to accomplish, there were worse people to be compared to.

 

It didn’t take long to get his people moving.  They divided up, with Carl, Tyreese, Judith, Bob, and Gabriel staying behind. They exited the church to the left.

 

It was the hardest thing Rick had had to make himself do- trying to keep his eyes forward, knowing that Gareth and his group would count heads and take the bait. Hopefully. There was always the chance for it going horribly awry, but Rick knew that Carl and Tyreese could handle themselves just fine if push came to shove. Still, his adrenaline was up.  Rosita took a step off to the side, and all of them paused as she stabbed a walker in the eye with a grunt.  They didn’t go far. Glenn dropped back with a whistle to show that Rick’s plan had worked.  

 

“Okay, stay low and stay quiet. Michonne take my left. Glenn and Maggie behind. The rest of you watch our backs in case they left someone out in the woods. Y’all ready?” There were nods in the darkness.  

 

When it happened, it happened  _fast_.

 

It only took a few minutes to loop back to the church and sneak back in.  Rick’s heart jumped to his throat when he heard Judith crying. It took everything he had to keep from reacting. He had just gotten his baby girl back. If they did _anything_.....

 

They could hear Gareth’s voice clearly, “I don't know. Maybe we'll keep the kid. I'm starting to like this girl. “ Rick could see them pointing their weapons at the door that was the only barrier between this madman and his kids. “ It's your last chance right now to tell us you're coming out.”

 

A man Rick didn’t recognize responded, “Are we done? We'll hit the hinges.”

 

Rick couldn’t wait any longer.  He shot twice, thanking god that Glenn had found the silencer on his run into town.  Otherwise every damn walker in the county would be on their doorstep. “Put your guns on the floor!”

 

The three people by the door whirled in shock. Rick had fired on the two bastards left to watch the vestibule without even blinking.

 

“Rick, we'll fire right into that office. So you lower your gun-- “

 

Rick squeezed the trigger once, purposefully taking out Gareth’s kneecap. He wanted him to hurt. He listened to Gareth’s scream of pain with his lips twisted into a small smile. “Put your guns on the floor and kneel.”

 

Rick enjoyed the sound of Gareth’s pained voice ordering someone named Martin to drop his weapons, that there was no choice.

 

“Yeah, there is.”  

 

Martin was so focused that he didn’t hear Michonne sneaking up behind him on silent feet. Her katana glinted in the moonlight.

 

“Want to bet” Gareth gasped towards Martin, trying to staunch the bleeding from his knee. “No point in begging, right? No. Still, you could have killed us when you came in. There had to be a reason for that.”

 

“We didn't want to waste the bullets,” Rick said. He wasn’t even exaggerating. It was a mark of pride that they could do this with only a few shots fired. He moved closer, almost casually down the aisle of the church towards where Gareth kneeled on the floor.

 

“We used to help people. We saved people. Things changed. They came in and--” Rick kicked him in the knee, listening politely as Gareth spun his sad tale. “After that... I know that you've been out there, but I can see it. You don't know what it is to be hungry. You don't have to do this. We can walk away. And we will never cross paths again. I promise you.”

 

Rick scratched idly at his beard, as though listening to Gareth’s pleas. “But you'll cross someone's path. You'd do this to anyone, right? Besides, my son already made you a promise... before you tried to _eat him_.” He reached, casually, making sure Gareth could see what was in store for him.

 

“No!” Gareth’s scream cut through the night.

 

Rick wrapped his fingers around the machete almost lovingly. It was wickedly sharp, but took two hacks before Gareth’s decapitated head rolled under a pew. He heard his people taking care of the trash and turned to a much bloodier church than what had been five minutes ago.  There were six. _Six_ dead.

 

Six that had stalked them, scared them, mutilated them. Rick could easily have dragged this out, but there was no point. His people were alive...

 

... well, for now. Bob would probably last through the night, but he’d die quickly from the sickness. Sasha. Sasha had been just as bloodthirsty as any of them, stabbing one of the women viciously. They made quick work of dragging the bodies out into the woods, far enough away from the church so that they could sleep for what was left of the night.

 

“But... but who will bury them?” Gabriel sounded utterly bewildered.

 

“They don’t get a hole in the ground. I hope something eats _them_ ,” Sasha said with a sad waver in her voice. She cleaned the blade of her knife and made her way to Gabriel’s office, ready to begin the long, long vigil of Bob’s last hours on Earth. The door shut with a small, final click.

 

Glenn snorted. He tossed Gabriel their camp shovel. It fell at his feet with a loud clatter. “You want ‘em buried, you do it. Sasha is right. They’ll be lucky if it’s just the walkers that get to them.”

 

There were nods and a few grimaces from his people Rick sighed. “Alright, ya’ll. We have about two, three hours ‘til sunup. Best post guards and get some shut-eye.”

 

“I got it. You guys get some rest. Rick, you’ve been going on fumes the last few hours. “ Maggie smiled tightly,  quickly taking care the few odds and ends of setting up camp.

 

Her words hit him like a wave of exhaustion. All at once, Rick realized just how tired and sore he was. Rick shook out his blankets and balled up his jacket for a pillow. They had staked out a few places near the altar, using what cushions they could find.  There was a watch established, so Rick felt comfortable enough to take off his boots, and stretch every overworked muscle, relaxing so that he could sleep.  

 

Rick didn’t let himself worry about Daryl and Carol, or about Bob. He didn’t let himself think about Maggie and Glenn leaving with Abraham, or the way that Tara would likely follow them. Tomorrow would take care of tomorrow.

 

Rick figured that he had slept in worse spots in his life but having Carl curl up near him, and Judith pass out on his chest, knowing they were now relatively safe? It was worth it.

 

TBC!

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi- I was having some formatting issues with AO3. I think I caught everything but if something shows up funky, pleas elet me know.
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting, guys! <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AN:** Canonical character death, as well as non-canonical character death (NOT Daryl or Rick!) If you’d like to know what happens, please look at the bottom for notes, but it will spoil the fic. There is also a character here from Telltale’s Walking Dead games, so be aware of spoilers for the game. Again, I’ll leave particulars in the notes. Additionally, here’s the return of Thinky, Angsty Rick. Obviously, since the events in this chapter are after S5 midseason "Coda", the rest from here on out is either made up, or made up with a strong influence from the comics. :)

* * *

They’d seen death in hundreds of different ways since the fall of the world as they knew it. Rick had been too late to save Shane, and paid the price with his own morality. Rick’s inability to forgive Lori for loving Shane lead to her death. Lori’s death had lead to almost losing Carl to the darkness that all of them flirted with, the ethics of -is _this going to be the thing that sends me into screaming insanity?_ a goddamn constant thought in the back of his head. Now though? Trailing a few steps behind Daryl as he carried Beth’s dead body through the too-clean halls of Grady, cradled into the archer’s chest as though protecting something precious... Rick feared it would be _this_ set of failures that took him out.  
  
With one thing and another grinding him down, Rick had convinced himself to... well, if he couldn’t stop from second-guessing himself, at least he’d convinced himself not to dwell upon it. He led his people as best he could. His decisions were for the greater good, so Rick did what was necessary. He worried about living with the consequences when he had time.  
  
Rick swallowed bile, watching the way the blood from Beth’s head wound trickled over the side of Daryl’s bicep, down off his skin, falling to the floor with tiny little _splats_ ; a trail leading them all towards safety, like twisted little bread crumbs.  
  
Beth was just so fucking _young._  


* * *

  
  
Daryl’s knuckles were bloodless on the steering wheel.  
  
Rick watched him out of the corner of his eye as they sped South, taking I-85 towards Atlanta. FEMA and the military had cleared several lanes for emergency vehicles, so while they still had to be careful and watch out for the occasional stalls, the way was fairly clear. The flight from the church to this point seemed as though it had only taken minutes, but Rick knew that it had been at least three hours since Daryl had brought Noah with him through the woods. It was daylight anyway. Daryl hadn’t even taken the time to ask questions. He and Michonne had hightailed it into town to get gas for the truck, then they were loaded and gone.  
  
Rick was all sorts of nervous about leaving Gabriel with his kids and Michonne, but knew that it would take a goddamn miracle (Rick grinned inwardly at the pun) for the priest to get the drop on Michonne _and_ his boy. Plus, Daryl needed him. Beth and Carol were being held captive somewhere. Rick didn’t know the details, but he didn’t need to really. Daryl needed him, and they were going for their people. That was that.  
  
The stopped once around Buford to gas up, but they’d gotten lucky with a semi-pileup on the road. Their small group didn’t even need to discuss it- they had just acted. Sasha and Tyreese had gone for diesel fuel while Rick and Daryl had each slid out of the truck on high alert, looking for walkers or humans that would attack. Rick kept Noah in his sights, uncomfortable with not knowing the young man. Daryl had vouched for him, but Rick wasn’t quite ready to let his guard down.  
  
Rick couldn’t help himself- he reached out for Daryl’s elbow, but before he could say anything, Daryl jerked away almost nervously, his crossbow cocked and aimed. “Naw. Not... here.”  
  
Rick nodded. It had been stupid to touch Daryl right now.  
  
They’d made the trip towards Atlanta with Daryl speaking the bare minimum. Occasionally, Rick could hear Sasha and Tyreese murmuring in the back of the truck, with Noah’s voice answering them, but the whole trip had had an almost palpable sense of panic. Daryl obviously had one goal, and it sure as shit wasn’t a heart-to-heart with Rick.  
  
They heard Sasha’s whistle when she found a truck with fuel still in it, and quickly syphoned the tank. There was still some left when they had filled up the truck Daryl had appropriated, and were quickly back on the road without even a walker groan in their direction.  
  
Daryl snorted at him when Rick put on his seatbelt, and Rick rolled his eyes in response.  
  
“You gonna write me a ticket, Officer?”  
  
Rick blinked. Daryl almost sounded... friendly. Flirty, even. “Uh. No. Probably not. It’s just a habit, really.”  
  
Daryl turned back to the road and got them going back towards Atlanta. “I know I gotta fill you in, man, but I... I don’t quite know where to start.”  
  
Rick very carefully didn’t make eye contact, although he was practically counting each breath Daryl took from the corner of his eye. “Reckon the beginning’s a good as any place to start.”  
  
Daryl let out a shaky breath. “Right. Well, back at the church, Carol and I had gone for water. We brought it back, but while we were out there, she’d found a car. Had a battery, gas, everything. She wanted to keep it under wraps in case shit at the church went balls up.”  
  
Daryl shifted down, making his careful way around what looked like a head-on collision. There was a good stretch of bare highway on their way into Atlanta, and Rick was reminded of his first time going there on that horse. God, how fucking stupid he’d been. Naive, even. He’d actually thought there was going to be a refugee camp there, just waiting on him.  
  
“It did. We lost Bob.”  
  
“Yeah. I figured. He ain’t with her, is he?” Daryl jerked his head back towards the back of the truck.  
  
“Yeah. Was Gareth. Tracked us, like I suspected. Kidnapped Bob while we were distracted, ate half his damn leg before they tried to lure us out. We flipped it on ‘em and they’re dead. No one else was hurt.” Rick clenched his fists together so hard his knuckles popped.  
  
“An’ Glenn? Maggie?”  
  
“They took off with Tara, Abraham, Rosita and Eugene. Part of the deal of helpin’ us with Gareth’s group.” Rick shrugged. “Can’t keep ‘em if they don’t want to stay with us.” Rick could tell that Daryl didn’t believe his bullshit for a second. Rick was _devastated_ that he hadn’t been able to keep everyone together. But Daryl needed his help, and Rick suspected that would keep his mind off how bad he’d fucked everything up... at least for awhile.  
  
Daryl’s muttered “Fuck.” summed everything up nicely. “So, I saw Carol sneakin’ out. Thought she was just goin’ to pee or something, but I didn’t want her to goin’ out alone. Caught her by the car. She was... shit, Rick. Whatever happened to her after she left the prison, it fucked her up. Like, losing Sophia did. She was thinkin’ about leavin’ us too.”  
  
Rick closed his eyes, swallowing tightly. Guilt was like a weight in his heart, dragging it down towards his stomach. Fucking _Christ_ he had fucked up so, so bad. He braced himself, waiting for Daryl’s ‘I had just decided to go with her’ when Daryl said something utterly unexpected.  
  
“I talked her ass out of it. Or tried to. Before I could finish, I saw one of them Caddys speed by. Marked with the white cross like the one I saw after Beth was took.”  
  
Rick’s eyes popped open. He turned to find Daryl glaring at at the empty lanes through the windshield.  
  
“We hopped in the car and followed it to Atlanta. Lost track of it for a bit but Carol knew a place we could stay. We saw that kid, found out he had been at the hospital where Beth was. Fuckin’ _knew_ her. She was the reason he was able to get out. Then Carol was hit by another one of them marked cars, and we came to get you.”  
  
Rick whistled. “Shit.” Not the most succinct of responses, but it seemed to sum up everything. “We found out you two had took off from Bob. Thought... that was it.”  
  
Daryl’s foot on the brake threw Rick against the strap of the seatbelt. The screech of tires seemed horribly loud. It was such a weird feeling, a memory of the time before that it took Rick a second to scan the area for whatever had made Daryl stop so suddenly. There were surprised squawks from the back of the truck, and Daryl pounded on the partition with his fist.  
  
“We’re fine. Y’all stay in there!”  
  
Sasha said something indistinct under her breath, but Tyreese’s laugh made Rick fairly certain that he didn’t want to hear it. There wasn’t anything in any direction, so Rick turned to look at Daryl in question.  
  
To Rick’s utter shock, Daryl’s hand shot out towards him, fisting in the collar of his t-shirt, yanking Rick across the seat- as much as he could with the seatbelt locked into place from Daryl’s sudden stop in the middle of the highway. Rick fought not to react- to keep his flight-or-fight impulses shoved down deep. He would no more fight Daryl than he’d run from him.  
  
“You think I’d just leave you like that? All of you? Carl? Michonne? Lil’ Asskicker?” Daryl’s voice was a low, rumbling hiss of... something. Fury? Disappointment? Hurt? Rick couldn’t tell.  
  
Rick blinked stupidly a few times, stymied, trying not to notice how close Daryls’ lips were to his, not exactly sure when he had decided that he wanted to kiss Daryl to find out exactly what he tasted like. “Well, yeah. With Carol? I thought you guys had...?” Rick didn’t mean to make it a question, but the way that Daryl’s glare turned darker and darker had thrown him off. “I mean, it’s ... uh... great. That you guys are...” Rick forced himself to shut up. “I knew you’d come back eventually.” _Knew_ was perhaps a strong word. Rick hadn’t “known” anything except how much it hurt when Daryl wasn’t there.  
  
“Eventually, huh.” Daryl’s fingers slowly released Rick’s shirt. He eased back into his own seat. “You think I’m with Carol. And that we were what, runnin’ off together?”  
  
Well, he did until just _now_.  
  
“So what was that in the woods by the lake then?” Daryl cocked his head to the left, looking at Rick with just enough of the previous anger on his face that it still looked faintly menacing.  
  
Rick felt himself turn bright red. The reminder was downright embarrassing to be honest, and he quickly blurted the first thing that came to mind. “We need to focus on what’s important. Beth and Carol need us. We ain’t got time for this.”  
  
Daryl snorted, taking his foot off the brake. “Yeah. I guess not.” He shifted into first and they continued on. Rick absolutely refused to look over at Daryl, or to ask him what the fuck that was all about. Rick couldn’t have met Daryl’s gaze if one of them had suddenly burst into flame. His mind swam with memories of Daryl’s body against his, the rough bark of the tree against his back, and the cold rain falling on the both of them. Rick cleared his throat, pinching the top of his nose. This was absolutely the worst possible time to be thinking about... all that.  
  
The next hour and a half was spent in a painfully awkward silence.  


* * *

  
  
Maggie’s scream echoed around the small lot, bringing walkers to the fence. Rick stumbled once when he saw Carl, holding Judith staring at them with his mouth open, eyes filling with tears as he watched Daryl slowly carry Beth’s body towards them. Michonne made a small, hurt sound and stood with her arm around Carl’s shoulders, shaking her head a little.  
  
Rick could still feel the spray of blood from Beth’s head shot on his skin.  
  
Maggie collapsed where she stood, Glenn reaching towards her with eyes that streamed tears. Rick could only watch as Maggie fought Glenn off in her desperation to get to her sister. Abraham, Rosita, Sasha and Tyreese took to the fences, cutting them a path towards- of all things- a fire truck.  
  
Daryl’s face was pulled into a painful grimace as he walked grimly forward, still cradling Beth to him. She looked very, very small next to the bulk of his body. Fragile, Broken. He offered Beth to Maggie, unable to meet her eyes.  
  
It shocked them all when instead of taking Beth, Maggie’s fist shot out, clocking Daryl in the jaw. Daryl staggered back, almost falling on his ass. Only his proximity to Rick kept them from all ending up on the pavement. Rick took a step forward, grabbing Maggie’s wrist and forcing her into a non-violent restraint, putting her on the ground as gently as he could with her fighting to get to Daryl. He quickly unarmed her. “You... this is _your_ fault. She’s dead because of-- Fucking let me _go_ , Rick!” Maggie threw her head back and screamed in pure anguish.  
  
Rick knew that sound. He’d felt it in his throat when he found out Lori had died, but it had been too big of a sound to let out. Rick had been terrified if he started screaming, he would never stop. Rick kept Maggie from hurting herself, but it wasn’t easy. He had to put his whole body weight into it, pressing her smaller frame into the pavement. Maggie was somewhere beyond anger, and fought like a wild woman to get to Daryl.  
  
“You think I don’t know that? Know that it’s my fault she’s dead? “ Daryl turned to set Beth down extremely gently on a grassy hill, still surrounded by flowers, an untouched piece of landscaping to make the hospital parking lot look a little less like a parking lot back when any of that shit mattered. Daryl turned, glaring down at Maggie, lips twisting in a mean smile. “At least I didn’t leave her. You gave up on her and fucked off to D.C. with Captain America and Doctor Demento over there.”  
  
It was dead quiet in the lot for two heartbeats. Rick had a perfect vantage point to see Daryl’s face; how the archer immediately regretted the words that he’d spoken.  
  
Carol gasped, “No, oh no” and covered her mouth with both of her hands, like she couldn’t bear to speak. Maggie collapsed at once like a puppet whose strings had been cut, sobbing bitterly. Glenn finally made it over to his wife, and Rick let her go a little gingerly, unsure if she’d jump back to fury.  
  
Rick knelt there, looking from Beth’s crumpled body, to Maggie sobbing in Glenn’s arms, to Glenn curled around her like he could physically keep Maggie safe if he just hugged her tightly enough, to Daryl standing off by himself staring at the sea of walkers like he was contemplating something really stupid. Before Rick could do anything, Carol was there for him, limping up to Daryl and wrapping her skinny arms around him, hugging him from behind. Noah looked utterly lost. He’d been willing to go back to the cops if it meant Beth was safe, and Rick knew that had to take courage. He was staring down at Beth’s body with his brown eyes filled with tears. Even Abraham’s group looked affected, and they hadn’t even known her.  
  
Rick stood. They had to go. This was too exposed, especially with Maggie unable to stifle her grief. He didn’t much care about the people in the hospital, or the fact that they were basically drawing walkers to them like flies to honey. He _did_ care that they needed a place to hole up, to regroup and figure out what the fuck they were going to do.  
  
He just didn’t know where to start.  


* * *

  
  
They quickly decided to abandon the fire engine. They all couldn’t fit, and it was easy enough to make their way back to where they had left the truck. If it wasn’t there, then they could just take another one. Michonne pointed out that they were too hurt to move too far, so Noah suggested that they stay where he and Daryl had lost Carol. They made a sad, strange little processional across the street and back to the office building that apparently Daryl and Carol had cleared previously. There was always the chance of someone, or some _thing_ else occupying it, but familiar was better. Glenn had lived on the other side of Atlanta, so he was just out of his depth enough to be willing to follow their lead.  
  
They moved slowly, with Daryl and Noah leading, Abraham, Rosita, behind them, Carl carrying Judith, Sasha and Tyreese following, Carol and Eugene- both of whom were obviously still in pain- walking behind them, Glenn carrying Beth, and Maggie holding her sister’s cold hand as they walked. Gabriel looked lost as he followed them with Tara to his left. Rick thought it best to follow so that he could keep his eye on everyone; Maggie and Daryl had to be kept apart, and there was some weird tension between Abraham and Eugene... enough that they too kept a very obvious distance from one another. It was the first time that Abraham had not been within arm’s reach of Eugene since Rick had met him. Michonne walked close enough to Rick to help him with any trouble that might jump out at them and with one thing and another he was very grateful for her presence. The other group had shown up at the hospital looking a little worse for wear. Their timing had either been terrible or perfect, depen.. Rick didn’t think that the Hospital people would look for them. That woman officer had been right. The Grady survivors had gotten what they needed from them. But... _Christ_ , it was a bitter price to pay. They’d gained Carol, but lost Beth.  
  
Daryl whistled and signaled, and they all turned towards the double doors to his left. It had once been a pretty swanky apartment high-rise, the kind that catered to the young professionals who didn’t want to drive to work. The glass was broken now, either from napalm, looters, or walkers, but they could all clearly see the boards that had protected the inside from the outside.  
  
“We went through the parking garage. There’s a better way through. We didn’t have the tools to bust through the wood.”  
  
Carol’s voice was a low, pain-filled whisper. No one had felt much like talking on their trek to the shelter, so Rick hadn’t asked her if she was okay. There was so much that had happened in such a short amount of time, Rick honestly didn’t know where to start.  
  
Beth. Knowing she was alive, only to lose her in a blink; to have her _murdered_ in front of them, seconds before she was free to go. If Rick was still this fucked up over it, Daryl had to be in agony. Rick didn’t even want to think about how shattered Maggie was. Watching her hold Beth’s hand was heartbreaking.  
  
The parking garage was dim, despite the faint light from outdoors. By now, they’d gotten used to walking through what was essentially a tomb, but the feeling never stopped being creepy- even more so when there was a decent chance of one of your nightmares actually jumping out at you. Their steps echoed in the mostly enclosed space. They took the stairs up three floors, only talking when they had to. They stopped in front of sort of an archway, that looked like it led to an open hallway. Rick could see the camping equipment in the middle of the hallway. So, when Noah spoke, Rick wasn’t the only one that jumped.  
  
“This through here is pretty grim. Your boy...”  
  
“Thank you.” Rick saw the gesture for what it was and didn’t take offence. Carl didn’t either. Daryl turned to the left and jerked a blanket off of a clothes line. Rick could see the carnage, and smelled the blood. Someone had shot these people, cruelly and with no warning.  
  
Daryl wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist and offered the blanket to Glenn a little awkwardly. Maggie had slipped into a place where she didn’t even seem to notice that Daryl was that close to them. Glenn frowned and looked at Rick with his eyebrows raised.  
  
“No, we don’t have to stay here. There’s a place---”  
  
“Daryl.” Carol’s low voice caused Daryl to stop mid-sentence. “We shut the door. It had a chain, remember?”  
  
As one, everyone went on high alert. With the exception of Gabriel, everyone swung a weapon into their hands. Gabriel moved back towards a dome tent away from all of them. Without asking, Eugene took the blanket from Daryl, spreading it onto a clear bit of hallway. Glenn set Beth down on it, and Maggie followed the movement of Beth’s body, still unable, or unwilling to let go of her hand. Glenn reached for his gun, standing protectively over Maggie, Eugene, and Beth’s covered form.  
  
The door in question had been pushed open, the wood busted with a crowbar. The chain was still wrapped around the door handle, but the wood around the door handle was broken out. Strangely enough, the hole in the wood was low to the ground, as though someone very small had done the breaking.  
  
“Oh! Help, Help! Please! Anyone!”  
  
_Oh god, it was a kid._  
  
Rick and Daryl moved as one, striding towards the door. Daryl kicked at the broken chain with one boot, while Rick used his shoulder on the already broken door. Between the both of them the doors flew open with a bang.  
  
They ran inside, and immediately assessed the situation. Someone small was curled into a corner, attempting to use the desk as a barrier from the two walkers. One walker was wearing a very familiar police uniform. The other was recently dead, and strong. It turned towards the new sources of food, snarling. The kid had lost their knife and was holding onto the desk with both skinny arms. The desk and the walkers blocked Rick’s view but it didn’t matter. Rick went left, and Daryl right, stabbing both of the walkers in the back of the skull almost at the same time, pulling them away from the desk with a dull _thud._  
  
Rick heard a commotion from the hallway they just left, but before he could move, Daryl yanked the desk off of the kid, only to stare stupidly down at the young girl that gaped back at them. She had a cut on her cheek and wildly curly, dark-brown hair. She was wearing a blue t-shirt and a godawful blue coat.  
  
“Th-thank-you.” Her wide, terrified eyes were hazel. She sat up a little shakily, looking around frantically for something before reaching over behind her for a ball cap that had fallen off in the scuffle. It was a dingy-looking grey, with a large capital D on it. Rick saw the blood spatter on it, but he also saw the way the girl’s hands shook when she put it on her head and belatedly realized that he and Daryl, covered in sweat and blood, were probably scaring the shit out of her.  
  
“Carl. Come in here a sec. Bring Judith.” Rick deliberately kept his voice calm. He took a step back. Daryl caught on immediately and moved when Rick did, giving the girl some space.  
  
“Dad--” Carl sounded conflicted.  
  
“ _Now_ son.”  
  
Carl came through a few minutes later, looking pale and shocky. His eyes went directly to the girl and he tilted back his hat a little, staring down at her. “Oh. Uh, hi.”  
  
“Hello.”  
  
“Dad, they need you in there.”  
  
Rick’s lips tightened. He wasn’t sure if he should leave or not. They hadn’t secured the room. The two walkers had to have come from somewhere.  
  
“I got it,” Daryl said. “Just come back to the hallway when you can and we’ll check the rest of the floor out together.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I’m Carl, and this is Judith. That’s my dad Rick, and the guy with the badass crossbow is Daryl.” Carl was a smart kid, and had picked up on how nervous the girl was. He spoke just as calmly as Rick had done.  
  
“I’m Clementine.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes locked on Judith.  
  
For the first time in a very long time, Rick wished he had shaved the beard. It was fine to look intimidating for whatever scumbag they came across, but he felt guilty to look off-putting to a traumatized kid. “Hey now. I’m not gonna hurt you. Go ahead. Get your knife. Dropped it huh? They surprised you?” Rick crouched down to hopefully a less-threatening kid level, ignoring the way his knees popped like firecrackers.  
  
She did so, looking visibly better with the handle in her hand. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have used the crowbar. It was stupid.”  
  
“You alone?” Carl shifted Judith to his hip, seeming to understand that crowding Clementine right now would be a very bad idea. Clementine got to her feet. She didn’t have a sheath for the knife, but held it like she knew how to use it, low to her hip with the blade away from her body. “You can come with us if you want. We’re just going to go up... well, I’m not sure how far, but Daryl? The guy that just left? He’s been here before and said there were tons of apartments. Maybe even with food.”  
  
“Rick, you best bring them in here. Got a bit of a... problem.” Daryl’s drawl was strange. He almost sounded disgusted.  
  
Shit, balls, _fuck_. Now what? Rick sighed. “You three come on. We can talk when it’s safe.”  
  
It was pretty apparent why Carl had looked freaked out once Rick stepped through the doorway. Gabriel was dead, his sightless eyes staring at nothing. He had obviously disturbed a walker in the tent, which had retaliated by taking out Gabriel’s throat. Walkers didn’t sleep, but Rick had seen them go dormant after awhile. All of them tramping through must have “woken” it up, and Gabriel had been so focused on getting out of the way of the possible danger that he hadn’t thought to look where he was going. Both Gabriel and the walker had knife wounds to their heads. Michonne covered them both up with a towel and Rick looked around at the people he’d brought to this place.  
  
Saving Gabriel in the woods had just delayed the inevitable. He was not equipped to handle the life in which they now found themselves. It was sad, but maybe this was better.  
  
“Okay, now that we got the doors open, we can find somewhere to hole up for the night. Y’all, meet Clement--”  
  
“ _Clementine?!_ ”  
  
“Glenn?”  
  
Clementine barreled through Rick and Carl, heading straight for a shocked-looking Glenn. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him hard, hiding her face in his side.  
  
“No. Fucking. _Way_ ,” Glenn breathed, looking absolutely shocked.  
  
The reunion brought Maggie out of her despair and she looked up at her husband, squinting through bloodshot, tear-filled eyes. “Glenn?”  
  
Rick felt the beginnings of a headache start behind his eyelids. “We gotta find safety, bury our... our dead, and then we can talk.” He raised his hand to still everyone’s objections. “I know. I _know_ but the situation is less than ideal. Survival first then we can ... figure this shit out.”  
  
Easy to say, but there was a helluva lot to be done before they could all fill each other in on everything that had happened. Rick took a slow, deep breath and started handing out jobs for his people to do. They would get it done, just like they’d done every single other time he’d needed them to step up and get shit done.  
  
Their situation wasn’t ideal, but they would figure it out.  
  
They always did.  


* * *

* * *

TBC!!!  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SPOILERS (for the fic!)**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Gabriel is the non-canon character death. Beth, obviously, is the canon. [[ **BITTER, UGLY SOBBING.** ]]
> 
> The new character is Clementine, from Telltale’s Walking Dead Game. I know, I know, it’s a weird crossover, but Carl needed a friend and I wasn’t comfortable doing an OC. I was thinking and welp... they’re roughly the same age.... Now, as to her storyline, I’ve played s1 and s2, and I’ll be referring to events from both of those, but not extensively. I replayed the damn thing three times to get the ending that I wanted (What? Judge me if you must.), but in this fic, Clem is alone. Okay? Okay.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some mention of past relationships.

They found themselves on the top floor of the apartment building. While it wasn’t technically a penthouse, it was pretty damn close. The top floor had been split into two apartments at either end, both easily 2,000 square feet each. Rick had felt hopeful for a good find when the stairwell from the ground floor had been boarded up, and his tentative optimism had paid off. They’d used Clem’s crow bar, and it had been easy to pull the nails and wood from one of the other apartments to seal themselves inside the top floor. There had been walkers in one of the top apartments, and after stabbing them in the head, Noah had suggested tossing them down the elevator shaft. That had worked just fine. It also left them with a lot of fairly “safe” space to catch their breath.  
  
Before unpacking or doing much more than securing the place, they had made sure to burn Beth’s body, since Maggie refused to have her buried. Maggie had started a small fire on the rooftop balcony, and Glen had grimly carried his sad burden up the few leftover stairs to the roof. They had to have it during the day so that the flames or the smell wouldn’t attract other survivors to their location, but the fire also had to be hot enough to burn correctly.  
  
Sadly, Rick and his group had plenty of practice at burning their dead.  
  
Maggie had refused a funeral service, and had just stood there on the roof with the wind whipping her hair, standing off from the rest of the group until the fire had done its job. They all said their goodbyes in their own way and time, wandering up to the roof and back down to find something useful to do where they camped. Tyreese had tactfully waited until Beth was ashes before burning Gabriel. The fire had burnt down by nightfall, but Maggie still stood there with her head down, lost again in that sad, lonely palace of her grief. Glenn made sure she drank water, and frankly refused to leave her, not that anyone thought he would. Rick made sure to see to Beth and Gabriel’s remains, then the group called it night, ready to get settled in for the evening.  
  
Michonne, as she usually did, had overseen the gathering of supplies. Tara had started a fire in the fireplace and they had seen to starting the meal. Between both of the apartments they had done pretty well. Given its inaccessibility, Rick had been tossing around the idea of staying there a few days, depending on how much food they had. He wasn’t sure. They might want to get further away from Grady and the terrible memories there.  
  
Rick’s gaze cut to Judith’s laugh. Carl had his hat off and he and Clem were taking turns trying to get her to walk around one of the corners of the room. It was painfully adorable, and Rick stared at the three of them, smiling a little.  
  
“Rick- we got a problem.” Carol’s voice startled him. “Some of them are talking about leaving... and with no one having slept in awhile I think it’s gonna go bad if you don’t step in.”  
  
“Shit.”  
  
Carol nodded, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for coming for me.”  
  
Rick smiled tiredly, cupping the back of her head with his hand and leaning into her for just a moment. “You knew we would.”  
  
“I hoped. I don’t think any of us really know anything anymore.” She turned and looked at the three kids. “That’s nice. Is Carl... okay? He was crushing on Beth pretty hard there for awhile.”  
  
Rick shrugged. Carl was quiet, focusing on his sister. Rick made a mental note to force the conversation in a few days if Carl didn’t bring it up first. There was fuck all he could do, but it would help to talk about it.  
  
Sasha stepped up to where Rick and Carol stood. “ I’m sorry to interrupt, but I heard what Carol said, and yeah. She’s right. You want me to go get Glenn? Or try to, anyway.” She looked over at Abraham. “I think... this shouldn’t be pushed off, Rick. It’s been building for awhile.”  
  
Rick sighed, nodding. He was so fucking tired. They’d gone from one thing to another to another to a fucking _nother_ since the prison fell, and he just wanted... he just wanted to rest.  
  
Sasha left and Rick and Carol crossed to sit near Carl and Judith. Daryl sat down on his other side and Rick had trouble not reaching over and touching him. He had been very quiet since they had broken into the top floor apartments, making himself scarce while Maggie grieved for her sister. Daryl wasn’t one to apologize, but it was obvious to Rick that he was grieving too.  
  
Clem was next to Carol. She kept darting little glances from under her eyelids at Michonne. Eugene sat next to her. He didn’t say much, just staring down at his hands.  
  
One by one, people stopped what they were doing to form a loose circle around the large living room. Some sat on the couch, some on the floor, some on chairs, some on cushions they’d scrounged from around the room. Tara passed around food. No one made a big deal when Maggie and Glenn finally joined them, but everyone quieted down from their already soft murmurs.  
  
Rick sighed, realizing that they were waiting for him to talk. He put aside the bowl of split pea soup (Rick had inhaled it so quickly that he found himself licking the sides of the bowl before Clem had looked at him and giggled.) and wiped his beard before looking around at his group of people. He opened his mouth, then shut it, not knowing where to start.  
  
“I don’t know where to start,” he said ruefully. He got a few wan smiles, but no one was in a mood to laugh.  
  
“I do.” Abraham straightened up. “Stayin’ in this city is like courting death. I didn’t bust my ass to stay alive for this long only to be grabbed by some poor undead fucker. I understand that there is safety in numbers, but I think this group... whatever y’all had... I think the dynamics have changed.” He cleared his throat. “Rosita and I are leavin’ at first light.” He looked at Eugene, narrowing his eyes. “He might be a lying sack of cowardly shit, but his reasoning is sound.”  
  
“What’s this?” Tyreese’s low voice rolled through the room.  
  
Rosita sighed. “Yeah. Turns out Eugene isn’t some superdoc. His cure for humanity was a little more fiction than fact.”  
  
Rick couldn’t say it was all that much of a surprise.  
  
“If there’s anywhere to go, it will be near D.C.. There might not be a bunker like Eugene said, but there has to be something. There was talk of that sort before they took out Atlanta.” Rosita shrugged. “Before all this,” she waved her hand around, somehow indicating the entire apocalypse, “I was a PA for a Lieutenant Colonel at Fort Hood, and there was a lot of buzz before they flew him out.” Her smile twisted. “Just rumors of course, but if it was going to be anywhere, D.C. makes sense.”  
  
Eugene nodded. “I understand that my two cents have been well and truly spent with this particular subject, but for what it was worth, that was my plan. Such as it was. There absolutely _has_ to be something there. Maybe not the government we know and used to love, but some sort of ... community.”  
  
“Big communities are dangerous.” Clementine’s whisper made everyone turn to look at her. Her eyes widened and she had to physically stop herself from shrinking back, although it was obvious that she clearly wanted to. “A... friend told me that. To always watch myself. He said I shouldn’t stay in cities for very long either. That they were dangerous.” Clementine frowned. “But everywhere is dangerous.”  
  
Michonne beat Rick to it. “And your friend was right.”  
  
Abraham cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring the look Michonne shot at him. “Here’s the thing. I ain’t saying that you’re doin’ a bad job, or anything like that. Hell, what you do for your people is damn near heroic, Rick. I respect that.”  
  
“But you want to leave.” Rick wasn’t surprised at that, either.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“He’s not the only one.” Maggie’s low voice sent everyone’s gaze back to Rick’s, as though they were holding their breaths, waiting for his reaction. He was beginning to feel like he was at a tennis match. “And it’s not just what happened today.” Her breath hitched. “But... Rick. Because of you I. I lost my whole family.”  
  
“Now wait just a goddamn minute! If Rick hadn’t...”  
  
“Wait.” Rick held up one hand to stall Daryl’s growling outburst. Daryl had tensed and looked ready to fly into a rage on Rick’s behalf. “She’s right.” Rick smiled sadly. “I don’t think she meant it was my fault, exactly, Daryl. But since she met me, Maggie has lost everything.”  
  
“Not everything,” Glenn’s voice was firm. Rick was struck then by how much they had all changed since the last time they were in Atlanta. It was like another life. He appreciated the support, but Rick also understood that Glenn would go with Maggie, no matter what.  
  
“No, not everything. And no. It’s not your fault Rick... I can’t seem to say anything right today.” Her voice wavered. We _chose_ to go with you: me, my dad, and my sister. And you kept us safe. You kept us together and taught us what we needed to survive, Rick. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.” Maggie’s voice choked up. “But.. I think Abraham’s right. We aren’t the same. I just...”  
  
Rick’s own throat tightened up. “You don’t have to apologize. None of you do. If anyone wants to take off, then I’ll not fault you for that.” Well, he _would_ , but not verbally. Their tenuous ties of “family” could only be stretched so far without snapping. “I’m not sayin’ I don’t want to go there- eventually.”  
  
Rosita nodded eagerly. “Yeah, we figured. Your girl is hurt.” Rosita nodded to Carol who smiled politely back. “You’ve got kids and all- we didn’t figure that you’d go too fast. Our plan was to...”  
  
“... scout ahead?” Rick raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure if they believed what they were saying or if they were just grasping at straws to not look like assholes for leaving. Either way, Rick honestly wasn’t mad. He was too fucking exhausted to be mad. Disappointed, sure. He sighed, rubbing his beard. “Uh hmm.” He looked around at the people in the living room. It was dark enough that the fireplace illuminated everyone with flickering, warm light. “Anyone that wants to go- no hard feelings. Don’t think that you have to stay with me.” He looked at Carl. “You don’t get a choice, kid.”  
  
Carl snorted. “Yeah right. Anyone that leaves my dad is an idiot.” He crossed his arms, frowning at the room.  
  
Daryl snorted. “And there, the mini-Grimes has spoken.” People were too tense to laugh, but there were a few hastily concealed smiles.  
  
Glenn sounded like he was about to cry. “I. I’m sorry, man, but...”  
  
Rick nodded. “I get it. And I meant it. No reason to be sorry.” Rick forced a smile. “You two are kind of a matched set. So, Abraham, Rosita, Glenn, Maggie...”  
  
“Me.” Noah bit his lip. “Sorry- but my folks are near there.” He turned to Abraham. “In Virgina, I mean. I have a better chance traveling with you guys as long as you understand my priority is to get to my dad. That damn cop that took me had a long arm, and if there’s a _chance_ that he’s there I gotta know.” He turned to look at Maggie. “Beth... she. I wouldn’ta gotten out if it wasn’t for her. I want to pay that back somehow. If you guys’ll have me.” Abraham nodded and slapped Noah on the shoulder, hard enough that the slighter boy fell back onto his ass. There were actual chuckles at that. Noah looked mortified at being the center of attention and ducked his head, looking down at his hands.  
  
“You comin’?” Abraham asked Eugene, eyes narrowed in a glare. His tone seemed to suggest that Eugene damn well better say yes.  
  
“Really?” Eugene’s whole face lit up. “You mean... really?”  
  
“Yes, asshole. But if you fuckin’ lie to me again I’ll gut you where you stand, understood?” Abraham’s growl was strangely affectionate. It reminded Rick of an exasperated owner of a particularly high-maintenance dog.  
  
Eugene nodded so quickly his mullet flopped around like a dead fish. “Yeah. Yes. Of course.” He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly, clearly overcome.  
  
Tara cleared her throat. “I’m goin’ where Glenn and Maggie go. Looks like GREATM is back in business.” She smiled a little, holding up her fist for a fistbump, then hastily lowering it when Carl glared at her.  
  
Rick had no idea what GREATM was, and didn’t really care. He had to ask, but he was afraid to at the same time. “Michonne? Carol? Tyreese? Sasha?” He paused. “Daryl?”  
  
Michonne rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Sure. See you in two weeks... you jackass. Why’d you even ask?”  
  
“I’m not leaving.” Carol’s voice was soft. “You’re my family.”  
  
Sasha looked at Tyreese. Rick bit the inside of his lip a little nervously. They could go either way, really. Tyreese looked back at his sister and they managed to have an entire silent conversation in the way that siblings always seemed to. “I think there’s zero chance of Ty leavin’ that baby.” Sasha looked directly at Carol. “Or anyone else that he cares for.”  
  
Carol turned bright red, obvious even in the low light from the fire.  
  
Sasha shrugged. “I go where he goes.”  
  
Daryl pushed his hair back from his head. “I think you all are a bunch of ungrateful dicks. You say yer scoutin’ but how the fuck you plan to let us know what you’re scoutin’ for... smoke signals?” He sucked his teeth. “I get if you don’t want to be askin’ Rick where to shit or when to lean, but you just takin’ off like that is bullshit.” He turned his glare pointedly on Glenn. “Call it what it is. Don’t sugarcoat it.”  
  
Rick reached out and put his hand on Daryl’s arm. “Enough. It’s done.”  
  
“And you’re just.. okay with this? With them sayin’ ‘aw fuck this’ and up and leavin’?” Daryl sounded incredulous.  
  
Rick took a deep breath. “It’s their decision. I have to be.”  
  
Daryl jumped to his feet and stalked off towards the rooftop staircase. More of that famous temper; frustration bleeding out while Daryl tried desperately to stifle it. Rick stood up, not sure if he should follow him or not.  
  
“I hate to leave it like this, Rick.” Abraham got to his feet and held out his hand.  
  
Rick shook it, shaking his head. “Naw. I mean it. No hard feelings. You’re right. We can’t move as quickly as you can. And who knows. We might even catch up later. What route you plannin’ on takin’? We _can_ follow. Keep to the same route, check in at cities we figure out in advance.” Abraham was nodding. “Just keep ‘em safe.” Rick’s voice thickened. He had to clear his throat. “Make sure you let Michonne know. I’m sorry but, I’m beat. It’s been a fucking long day.” Rick had to get out of here before he gave into the multitude of emotions crowding him.  
  
People took that as a signal to start getting ready for the night. The living room had a pull out bed, and there were three bedrooms. Rick looked around a little lost, but Michonne’s soft voice stopped him before wandering around too much.  
  
“Your room is in the other apartment. I put your stuff there. Carl and Judith can go in with you. Daryl and Carol can take the other bedroom, and I’ll bunk with Sasha and Tyreese. That way, we can close up after they leave in the morning, and your coma-lookin’ ass can sleep in for once. Let some of us shoulder some of your responsibility for once, Rick.” She grinned. “I’m up for it. Promise.”  
  
Rick pulled her to him a little desperately. She knew it was hard for him to ask for help. She hugged him quick and hard and Rick was so, so grateful for her support.  
  
Rick wasn’t sure he could manage to say goodbye to Maggie or Glenn without breaking down. They must have felt the same way, because a half-hearted wave was about all any of them could manage. They’d hugged before at the church Rick, and considered _that_ their real goodbyes. This was just a... coda. Before going to bed, he did walk over to Clementine and crouch down beside her. She hadn’t said anything when everyone else was speaking, and Rick wanted her to know she was welcome.

“Hi.”  
  
“Hi.”  
  
Rick waited until she darted a look up. He knew that all of them together like this was extremely intimidating, but Clementine was a smart girl. She would have had to have been, to survive this long. “Hey. Now, I’m sorry to be in your business, but I have a couple of questions to ask you. Is that okay?”  
  
“Um. Okay.” She sat up a little straighter and tilted back her ball cap so that she could look him straight in the eye.  
  
Rick cleared his throat. “How many walkers have you killed?”  
  
“Oh. Uh, lots, I guess. Lee made me learn how to shoot when I was little. We were, uh. he died and I’ve been on my own for most of that time. I... didn’t count how many but enough that I don’t get sad anymore.”  
  
“Lee?” Glenn had mentioned a Lee. It seemed incredible that they had known each other, and that was definitely a story Rick wanted in detail some day, but the brunt of it was that Glenn didn’t forget faces. Clementine had been a lot less nervous of all of them because of her and Glenn’s connection, and Rick was half-convinced that she would go with Glenn’s group, rather than stay with his.  
  
Clementine nodded. “He was real smart. He made sure I knew the important stuff- not to let my hair get long, and how to use a knife. He made sure I wasn’t scared- well, no more than anyone else. And he kept me safe.”  
  
Rick nodded, aware that both Michonne and Carl were not exactly subtle about listening to Clementine talk. “How many people have you killed?”  
  
Clementine sucked in a sharp breath, blinking rapidly. “I. I had to. Nine.” She sniffed and tears spilled over her eyes and down her cheeks.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Clementine was quiet for several minutes. When she looked back up, she had stopped crying. She still looked sad, but some of the sadness had bled away to anger. “So I could live. Some of them I shot so they wouldn’t come back. Some of them I killed because they were going to hurt me, or mine. And I’d do it again.” Her lower lip trembled. “If I had to.”  
  
Rick nodded. One thing he was very familiar with was lying children. Not that Carl was a liar per se, but kids were kids. There were usually enough tells for when the truth took a creative turn. Clementine had told the truth. There was too much pain, too much acceptance in what she’d said for it to be anything else. “I understand. Thank you for answering my questions. Now, I know you’re probably tired, and I’d love to know the story of how you got here to Atlanta, if Glenn left you guys back in Macon, but now’s not the time. If you... I know you’re probably not sure yet, but if you’d like, I’d love for you to stay with us.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
Rick nodded again. “If you want. I know you and Glenn-”  
  
“No. It’s been forever since I met someone my own age. And you have a baby too. I know I’m not your kid, but you saved me. And I’m not a burden. I can shoot, and cook some, and I’m good with my knife.”  
  
Rick was pretty sure that had been more Daryl than him, but he smiled a little anyway. “You’re safe here. Once you get some sleep, you can decide what to do.”  
  
“Oh. Okay.”  
  
Rick started to get up, but Clementine stopped him with her hand on his arm. “Wait. Same question back. I know you’ve killed a lot of the dead ones, but how many people?” She narrowed her eyes, looking solemnly at Rick like a miniature adult.  
  
“I don’t know. I stopped counting.”  
  
Clementine nodded. “Why?”  
  
Rick liked this little girl. He almost smirked at her audacity. Asking people the three questions was kind of his thing. It was funny that she had flipped it on him, and even funnier that she clearly expected a truthful answer. “Because they were dangerous. Because they wanted to hurt my family.” He glanced up at the roof, figuring he should go for broke. If the truth scared her, she could always go with Glenn. “Because I want-- no. Needed to.”  
  
Clementine nodded, tilting her head a little to the left. “Hey, Rick?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Call me Clem.” Her smile was bright, and made Rick feel the tiniest bit brighter about this incredibly shitty day.  
  
“Hunmhm. Clem it is. Now go grab you some clothes. It looked like the people who lived here before had a girl your age or so. Michonne will show you where to clean up and where you can sleep.”  
  
Clem nodded and disappeared into the back of the apartment with Michonne. Rick stood, feeling a tiny bit better about everyone scattering to the five winds. Abraham had found some paper and was carefully writing out something, while Rosita looked over his shoulder. Tara, Noah and Eugene looked to be packing most their half of the goods up, getting ready for a new day. Glenn and Maggie were leaning together off to the side, each with their back to a wall in a corner, looking like two bookends that needed each other to keep upright. Rick didn’t figure that was far off, really. He sighed.  
  
Carl and Judith were playing a game that seemed to involve a lot of giggling and blowing kisses on bellies, and all of the sudden, Rick just had to be somewhere else.  
  
He left the one apartment, closing the door softly behind him. Rick looked once to the emergency stairwell that they’d used to get to the roof, but changed his mind in the next breath. If Daryl wanted to talk, he wouldn’t have stormed off like that. Rick rubbed his gritty his eyes and made his way to the bedroom.  
  
Yeah, the people who had lived here before had a damn fine taste in things. There were enough candles for a Mass, and either Carol or Michonne had lit enough that everyone could make it to their bedroom without tripping over anything. Rick’s pack was in front of what had to be the Master bedroom. There was a candle on the end table, one of the big ones with three wicks. It put out a good bit of light. Next to it was two folded towels and what looked to be a bag sitting on top of them. Folded on it was a note in Michonne’s handwriting.  
  


_Use me._

  
Underneath in tiny block letters was printed:

_WE’RE NOT QUITE COUNTRY ENOUGH FOR THE MOUNTAIN MAN THING YOU’VE GOT GOIN ON. WHEN I SAY ‘USE ME’, I **MEAN IT**. _

  
  
Rick grinned outright when he saw that in the bag was a pair of scissors, a battery-powered shaver, and a disposable razor. There was even a tiny bottle of shaving gel. He shook his head and took the bag and the candle into the attached bathroom. Sure enough, that crazy woman had set up a sink full of water. There was a small pitcher next to it that was also full.  
  
Rick shook his head to think of Michonne scrounging water from god knew where while they all had said their silent goodbyes to Beth, just so he could shave. He wondered why she was so worried about what he looked like.  
  
When Rick caught sight of himself in the mirror though, he could understand why. His eyes were bloodshot, and under them, he looked as though he’d been punched. He was still covered with a rusty spatter of Beth’s blood, and his hair looked damn near terrifying. His eyes were dull over the bushy brown beard- one, Rick was annoyed to realize with the tiny part of his mind that still gave a shit, that he looked much closer to 50 than 40, and he frowned.  
  
Grooming _that_ monster was a task for another time. Michonne meant well, but they had more important things to worry about. They certainly had more important uses for the water, although Rick was going to take advantage of some of it though to clean up and help himself to the toothpaste that had been here. That was probably one of the most bizarre things to get used to: not brushing his teeth three times a day. Back in the old days he’d been a fiend about dental hygiene. Now, when they could find something to clean their teeth properly, it was a treat. Rick brushed twice and enjoyed running the tip of his tongue over non-fuzzy teeth.  
  
He cleaned up with one of the hand towels, more so he wouldn’t splurge on all the water than any other reason and felt much better, even if he had to use the little frufru soaps the missus of the house had apparently favored. Lori had had only put those out when Rick’s mom visited, and god help the poor schmuck that actually used them. Decorative or not, they made a halfway decent lather and Rick felt much better after stripping down and giving himself a quick wash. Even a spot-wash like this felt amazing.  
  
He walked out of the bathroom naked, cupping the candle with his palm. He made his way to the wardrobe and frowned at the drawers. Well, beggars couldn’t exactly be choosers. The guy that lived here favored fine, pastel linen clothes for some reason but he and Rick were the same size, or close enough, in sweats. Rick must have been bigger in his shoulders and arms because the t-shirt stretched almost to the point of being uncomfortable.  
  
Yawning, Rick blew out the candle. He grabbed his knife to stick under his pillow and got under the covers, exhaustion dragging at him.  
  
He didn’t even remember closing his eyes.  
  


* * *

  
  
Rick came awake all at once, skin prickling with the sudden feeling of _wrong_.  
  
He wasn’t alone.  
  
Rick opened his eyes, tensing under the sheet. Instead of the darkness he was expecting, he could see the moonlight shining in through the picture window from the penthouse apartment. Rick reached slowly for the knife, only to stop when his sleepy brain belatedly recognized the dark silhouette sitting on the window seat.  
  
“Looks weird without the lights. A fuckin’ graveyard.”  
  
Rick sat up, pushing his hair back from his forehead and blinked quickly, surprised at Daryl’s presence  
  
“You’ve been asleep for about four hours.”  
  
Rick shut his mouth, grinning a little at how Daryl knew what he was going to ask before he did. Daryl was talking in a low voice, still not looking at Rick in the bed.  
  
“The kids are sacked out in the other room.”  
  
Rick stretched, wincing at how many times his back popped. “Oh. They were supposed to come in here. Sorry...”  
  
“For what? Sleepin’?”  
  
“For leavin’ you with taking care of everything.”  
  
Daryl snorted. “Shit. I didn’t take care of nothin’. I only came back down because Michonne said that if I didn’t, quote ‘be real clear and use small words’ endquote with you she was gonna do somethin’ _real_ unpleasant to my balls.”  
  
Both men cringed, wincing at the thought of a pissed-off Michonne anywhere near anything fragile that was attached to their body.  
  
“Are... you...” Rick tried, tentatively.  
  
“Not really.” Daryl shifted against the window so he was turned towards Rick. “Beth was... well, you know how she was. We were only together for those few days. She was lost because I fucked up.”  
  
Rick started to sit up, flailing around a little ungracefully at the unexpected fluffiness of the mattress. He went over and sat down beside Daryl on the window seat. “Do you think Lori dyin’ was my fault?”  
  
Daryl whipped his head around so quickly his hair made a little flopping sound. “What the fuck are you sayin’, man? Of course not!”  
  
Rick noded, having expected that answer. He crossed his arms on his chest. “What about Shane?”  
  
Daryl sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I get it. I get what you’re tryin’ to do, but that ain’t the same thing.”  
  
Rick cocked his head. “How’s it different?”  
  
“That stuff just happened. Not ‘cuz of something you did. Or didn’t do. But I .. she was under my protection and I fuckin’ let her down in the worst possible way. Beth was just a kid. She was annoying and just... sweet. Like a kid sister I guess. She told me that I look at her and see just another dead girl, but... I didn’t. She was a babe in the woods compared to the rest of us, so I just tried to show her some stuff. It was stupid.”  
  
“Not stupid at all. I’m glad that you had that.”  
  
“Yeah? I wish I didn’t. Woulda been easier.”  
  
Rick snorted. “Oh that’s a pile of bullshit, Daryl Dixon. You were _terrified_ when you knew they had both Beth and Carol. That wasn’t ‘cuz you didn’t feel nothin’.” Rick stared Daryl down, tapping him on the knee when Daryl tried to look away. “If anything, it’s ‘cuz you felt... everything.”  
  
Daryl was quiet for several minutes. Rick finally broke his stare, looking out at the dead city.  
  
“So what do you think about them leaving?”  
  
“Motherfucking ungrateful dickheads.”  
  
Rick snorted. “Yeah, you were hiding how you felt earlier so well I didn’t think anyone caught on.”  
  
Daryl actually smiled, punching Rick on the bicep. “Asshole.”  
  
“Yeah. You gonna be okay?”  
  
Daryl shrugged. “We got a good group. That Clementine kid seems pretty smart. Young though. Had to have been, what. Eight? Nine when all this shit went down?”  
  
“Something like that I guess.”  
  
Daryl leaned forward, sniffing. His nose actually brushed against Rick’s neck, causing Rick to freeze in place, his heart thundering in his ribs. “Do I smell vanilla?”  
  
_Oh!_ “Yeah. I cleaned up a bit.” Rick couldn’t help the way his voice had deepened, or the way his body felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He and Daryl had been sitting fairly closely- it was a big window seat, but not _that_ big- but Daryl in his space like that was... it was something else altogether.  
  
Daryl inhaled again, slowly. Rick had just about decided that he was going to reach out to cup the back of Daryl’s head, when Daryl jerked back like he’d been burned.  
  
They stared at each other for a few heartbeats in the semi-darkness of the quiet room. Daryl cleared his throat, getting to his feet. “I. Uh. I’ll just go clean up some. Be back in a sec.”  
  
He was gone before Rick quite figured out what happened. He’d been just fine while they were talking, but once Daryl invaded his personal space, his mind just stopped. He felt like an idiot when he realized that he had cupped the palm of his hand over the spot where Daryl had touched his skin.  
  
Rick didn’t want to be sitting here like an idiot when Daryl got back, but he also wanted to check on everyone real quick. He got up and walked quietly to the door to peek out. He moved quietly as he checked on the first door to his left. Clementine, Judith, and Carl had spread the mattresses on the floor and were sacked out. Rick had to smile at the way Carl had spread out octopus-style, leaving Clementine and Judith huddling together on the smaller corner of the mattress. Rick smiled to see that Clem had stolen the blankets, almost in retaliation.  
  
The next door held Carol and Michonne. Rick didn’t open that door, but their packs were outside and he could hear the soft murmur of the two of them talking. He had no interest in interrupting. He touched his beard as an afterthought, making a mental note to check in with them tomorrow.  
  
Barefoot, he made his way out into the living room, smirking a little at how Ty and Sasha had pushed the couches against the door. They both had weapons at the ready. If anyone happened to make it up the forty floors and through the stairwell that they’d hammered shut, _and_ through the apartment door, they’d have one hell of a surprise. Rick turned back around and went back into the bedroom.  
  
He got back into the bed and lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to Daryl splash around in the bathroom.  
  
It was weirdly domestic.  
  
Daryl walked out, cursing under his breath. “Sorry- I left my pack out here.”  
  
Rick told himself that he wouldn’t look, that he wasn’t some besotted 14-year old kid...  
  
Some imp of the perverse had timed it so that Rick looked just as Daryl was bending over to ease his legs into his sweats. The moonlight was bright enough that Rick could see the sheen of it against pale curve of his back, the flank, and curve of a butt cheek. Rick screwed his eyes shut then looked back up at the ceiling licking suddenly dry lips.  
  
“It’s okay if I sleep here, right? I can take the floor if---”  
  
“Don’t be a dumbass.” Rick’s voice _almost_ sounded normal.  
  
The mattress shifted as Daryl got in, letting out a low moan that Rick absolutely did not notice as he stretched out, enjoying the almost unreal comfort. “Shii-iiit. I’m so beat I think my fuckin’ hair hurts.”  
  
Rick didn’t answer. He grunted in a half-assed response and turned over on his side so that he wasn’t facing the man sharing the bed with him.  
  
Daryl was quiet for awhile, so long that Rick thought he’d fallen asleep. Rick had just drifted into that calm place before sleep took over when he heard Daryl speak.  
  
“Me and Carol sometimes fuck.”  
  
When Daryl spoke, Rick’s eyes flew open in the darkness. He was glad that Daryl couldn’t see him. He wasn’t quite sure what expression was on his face, but it couldn’t possibly be a good one.  
  
“She calls it bein’ friends with orgasms. It’s not, I mean. She didn’t want anything serious after that fucker she married croaked. So when either of us gets real lonely, or just.. you know.. horny or whatever, we just... get each other off.”  
  
Rick bit his lip so hard he was surprised he didn’t bite through the flesh.  
  
“It ain’t ever gonna be a thing. She didn’t even want to worry about gettin’ pregnant, so I didn’t even. Uh. You know.”  
  
Rick finally found his voice in the barrage of imagery his mind helpfully supplied, picturing the multitude of ways that Daryl and Carol _had_ been together, even if they hadn’t ‘uh- you-know’ed.’  
  
“She told me that all that shit was done. When we were following Beth I mean. She said I wasn’t like some stupid kid- that I had grown. Manned up. Then she just said that she didn’t want the orgasms part anymore- or, at least, that she was thinking about havin’ them with someone else.”  
  
Rick blinked. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that?  
  
Daryl huffed a shaky breath. “She also said that it was pretty damn obvious that I wanted someone else too.”  
  
Rick’s mind cycled through the list of people. Was it Rosita? Sasha? Shit. _Michonne?_ He had a brief, hopeful spark when Rick thought it might be him, but Daryl had been real clear in the woods. He’d said ‘It doesn’t have to mean some big thing,’ and there was nothing unclear about that. Whoever it was, it sure as shit wasn’t him.  
  
“You gonna say anything?”  
  
Rick absolutely was _not_ ; afraid that if he started he’d wake the people in both damn apartments. His mind whirled for something he could say and not give away what was clearly a one-sided attraction on his part. Daryl could easily leave with Abraham’s group in the morning if Rick didn’t didn’t say exactly the right thing to keep him here.  
  
He was so out of his depth. Once he married Lori he’d never even thought about cheating on her, and they’d gotten together so damn young that Rick had never had a ... friend with orgasms, or a fuckbuddy, or whatever, but Daryl seemed to be waiting for him to say _some_ thing.  
  
“What we did by that cabin was... good. But it don’t have to be complicated. Just...” Rick trailed off awkwardly, trying not to breathe too loudly, or make himself sound too clingy.  
  
Daryl was silent beside him.  
  
“If you wanted.” Rick waited, not even certain he _breathed_.  
  
“Yeah.” The bed shifted as Daryl turned over. Not towards Rick, like he halfway expected, but the other way, mirroring the way Rick was laying with what felt like a gulf of space between them. “Yeah, I want.” Daryl’s voice was low.  
  
There were several more minutes of awkward silence, while Rick wracked his brain for something to say that didn’t make him sound like a low-budget soft-core porn flick.  
  
Eventually Daryl snorted a laugh, and the sound was so shocking that Rick jumped.  
  
“Relax, man. I ain’t gonna jump you. We got plenty of time for that, an’ I’m too fuckin’ tired. We need to be up to say goodbye in the mornin’. So...goodnight, Rick.”  
  
Rick blinked. Daryl didn’t sound mad, or disgusted or any of the other emotions that Rick was imagining. What he did sound was strangely... hollow, like you did in that way when you were choosing your words carefully.  
  
“G’night.” Rick’s whisper was quiet in the darkness. He tried not to let it bother him when Daryl didn’t say anything else. It didn’t take very long for Daryl’s breathing to even out, for his body to relax into the mattress. Rick slowly uncurled from his tense pose and attempted to go back to sleep.  
  
It took a lot longer the second time.  
  
TBC!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Mind the rating, folks!**

Rick wasn’t entirely sure if he was dreaming or not. He was warm, almost too warm really. After falling asleep on opposite sides of the ridiculously plush mattress, they had migrated together like two halves of a magnet. He was pressed so closely into Daryl that he could feel the other man breathe. One hand was under Rick’s pillow, and the other was resting on the mattress against Daryl’s stomach. Each slow breath sent Daryl’s longer hair fluttering.   
  
It was... nice.   
  
When Rick stretched his foot he winced at the feeling of pins and needles. He moved his leg, adjusting a little, moving so that their legs were tangled together. Instead of his hand on Daryl’s stomach, he moved it slightly to the other man’s hip and started moving his thumb in small circles, enjoying the feel of Daryl’s muscles under his skin.   
  
Rick listened in the dark, waiting for people to wake up. He wished he knew what time it was. Weird that that was still a motivation. It wasn’t like had to get ready for work, or be sure Carl had breakfast for school. He absently nosed into the hair on the back of Daryl’s neck, sighing a little. Rick was feeling a little less raw from everything. It still gutted him that Beth was gone... he was honest enough with himself to know that the way that went down was like he’d had to mourn her twice. And Maggie and Glenn? Rick still felt like he’d let his people down so much that they felt they needed to leave. But this...   
  
In the dark, in the quiet, he could pretend.   
  
He could pretend that Daryl wanted him. He could pretend that Daryl didn’t still... blame him for what he had done to Joe in the woods. He could pretend that Rick wasn’t another Carol- filling in until someone else came along. Part of Rick wanted to know who he was filling in for, but the rest was also willing enough to go with whatever Daryl wanted for now. This was so... the _idea_ of this was so new that Rick knew he was like a dog begging for scraps, but couldn’t quite sum up the pride to care.   
  
That this just could be something they did, sleeping together with such intimacy. It was easy to remember you were alive when you had someone’s heartbeat next to you, echoing yours. While he’d been asleep, Rick hadn’t started awake once- wondering what he was listening for or who was on watch. Right now, before everyone woke up and he had to start fixing any of the eight hundred things that he had to keep going it was damn near idyllic to just lie here and bask in the almost-forgotten feelings of utter contentment.   
  
Rick tentatively pressed his fingers in the groove under Daryl’s hipbones. The skin there was smooth enough that it was distracting. He wanted to touch more, but didn’t want to wake Daryl up to do it. He paused with indecision, his breath leaving him on a surprised _woosh_ when Daryl pressed his ass back that last inch into Rick’s groin.   
  
“Oh _damn_.”   
  
Rick only realized he spoke out loud when Daryl huffed out a low laugh. “Hm--ahhuhh.” Whatever Daryl was going to say broke on a huge yawn that cracked his jaw. It was Rick’s turn to grin, pressing his lips into Daryl’s shoulder.   
  
Why was this so easy?   
  
Daryl sucked in a sharp breath at that, and Rick’s fingers tightened on Daryl’s hip in reaction. Rick trailed his fingers back up over Daryl’s stomach, teasing this time. The muscles of his abdomen jumped and fluttered under Rick’s fingers. Daryl rocked back a little and they both gasped when Rick arched his hips a little in reaction, pressing his half-hard dick against the curve of Daryl’s ass.   
  
“Goddamn, that’s a hell of a way to wake up.”   
  
Rick pressed his open mouth against Daryl’s shoulder, sucking a little on the skin, pleased when Daryl shivered. “Yeah?”   
  
“Fuck ye- wait, are you waiting for per _miss_ ion?” Daryl sounded absolutely flabbergasted. For some reason, that struck Rick as hilarious. Daryl sounded so affronted, like he couldn’t even believe it. Daryl started to turn, but Rick tightened his grip, pressing his mouth against Daryl’s shoulder again to keep him in place. He might be complete shit at this, and it would be better if he didn’t have Daryl looking at him on top of everything else.   
  
Funny or not, Rick kind of was, so he slowly worked his mouth to the side of Daryl’s neck, waiting. Feeling stubble against his lips was definitely new. Not... _bad_ , just new.   
  
“Yuh--- _Jeeeesus!_. Yes! Christ, man you keep doin’ that and you can have anything you damn well want.”   
  
“I can?” Rick bit his lip, shocked that he was... allowed.   
  
Daryl nodded, pressing his ass back into Rick once again.   
  
Well, that was clear enough.   
  
Rick bit his lip and pressed his whole hand against Daryl’s stomach, sliding his pinkie and ring finger of his left hand under the waistband of Daryl’s sweats. Daryl groaned and froze, shivering again, tensing in anticipation. Rick cupped his hand, gently scratching his fingernails against the thin skin of Daryl’s thigh. He could feel the springy curls of Daryl’s pubic hair, and the side of his wrist slid against the base of Daryl’s cock.   
  
“I can touch you like this?”   
  
Daryl’s breath hitched when Rick’s hand closed around him. He tightened his grip experimentally, rubbing under the head with his first finger and thumb, then sliding his thumb up over the slit. Daryl must have been awake for awhile, or else he was just as turned on as Rick was, because the head of his cock was wet. Rick used the precome to ease the friction of his grip and began slowly moving his wrist.   
  
Daryl’s hand shot out and back, hanging onto Rick’s forearm. He wasn’t stopping Rick at all, tightening his fingernails a little when Rick sucked a mark onto the back of Daryl’s neck, feeling a tiny bit more confident when Daryl could only gasp, like he’d forgotten exactly how important lungs were.   
  
Rick nudged his own hips forward. His cock was just as hard. Even feeling Daryl’s ass through two layers of clothes felt good. They were laying so that he mostly rubbed against Daryl’s tailbone, but his balls slid against the curve of Daryl’s ass and that was... _fuck_ how was that so good? Rick thrust again, a little tentatively, groaning at the feel of the friction against the sensitive head of his cock.   
  
Maybe that’s why he didn’t hear the knock on the door the first time. Or the second. The third though, that rocketed through his lust-stupid brain and caused Rick to freeze.   
  
“Rick?” Michonne was still on the other side of the door, but Rick knew if he didn’t answer she’d be through it and checking up on them in a heartbeat.   
  
Rick had to clear his throat twice before he could talk without either swearing or squeaking. “Yeah?” He slowly eased his hand out of Daryl’s sweats, ignoring the wet smear of precome on his palm and fingers.   
  
“They’re wanting to go at first light.”   
  
“Fuck.” Rick popped the ‘k’ sound, heartfelt. He said it only loud enough for Daryl to hear him, but could have screamed it given what he was feeling right this second. “Yeah, give me a sec. I’ll be out in a few.”   
  
“...Right.”   
  
How that woman could sound so goddamn smug with only one syllable was one of the few mysteries of the universe. Rick eased back a little awkwardly, given the fact that he had practically been humping Daryl into the bed and lay there on his back, breathing heavily. Daryl almost _leaped_ off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom with a door that didn’t slam, but came awfully damn close.   
  
Well. That answered that. Was he supposed to ... go to Daryl? Ignore the fact that they’d had to stop right before he came? Offer to help him out?   
  
Rick wiped his hand on his sweats with little grimace and stared up at the ceiling with a glare. His body was still lit up like a fucking Christmas tree and he had to go out there and pretend that he wasn’t fucking _pissed as hell_ that half his goddamn group felt more comfortable going off on their own than sticking with them. With him.   
  
Rick groaned and swung his legs off the side of the bed, popping his back without thinking about it. His spine was used to sleeping on the ground, not sleeping on the mattress equivalent of a fluffy cloud of comfort. He stood and shucked the sweats, jerking on his mostly filthy jeans like armor, still ignoring his stupid dick, grimacing when he hitched up his jeans over his ass but gingerly doing up his zip. If he’d done a better job of ignoring his stupid dick, then he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.   
  
The shirt was tight in his arms, but long enough on his torso, so Rick left it until he could find something that _wasn’t_ smeared with Beth’s blood. If they were waking him up this early then they could damn well deal with whatever he had and be fucking happy that he wasn’t walking out there naked. Rick heard a low sound from the bathroom and bit his lip. He walked over and started to reach for the doorknob.   
  
“No- jest--- go. ‘M fine.” Daryl’s voice was low, pitched just barely loud enough for Rick to hear him through the bathroom door.   
  
Oh. Rick ignored the way his shoulders slumped, jerking his chin up and turning towards the bedroom door. Rick stomped over (It was hardly satisfying with him being barefoot and on the plush carpet blocking all sound.) and jerked it open.   
  
Michonne was standing there with a carefully blank look on her face, although her eyebrows were raised in question. “Game face on, Grimes. You can be pissy later.”   
  
Rick opened his mouth to respond... only to shut it with a little pop. Michonne was right. It wasn’t her fault he was in a shitty mood. He needed to get his head out of his ass and... and go say goodbye.   
  
The kids were apparently still asleep, and Rick saw no sign of Carol, but Tyreese and Sasha had moved from the doorway so that Rick and Michonne could leave. Sasha was curled up on the couch, but got up when Rick opened the door to the apartment. Rick remembered that after the prison, Sasha had been with Maggie while they found Glenn and frowned to himself. It wasn’t just him that this was affecting, and he would do well to remember that. Tyreese made a snuffly sound and took his sister’s spot on the couch, rolling into the back and clearly intending to sleep for another few hours.   
  
Rick looked at the patch job they’d done on the stairwell and frowned. If they were going to stay here for awhile, they’d have to figure out something better. But that was a job for another time. Right now he had goodbyes to say.   
  
As if on cue, Abraham popped his head out of the door, opening it wider when he saw Rick, Michonne, and Sasha standing there. “Mornin’!” He sounded incredibly chipper.   
  
Rick tried not to growl at him, but whatever expression that was on his face must have been pretty succinct because Abraham toned it down quite a bit, schooling his face into something more suited for a funeral.   
  
“Er-- sorry. We marked some stuff on the map, if you want.”   
  
Rick nodded. “I’ll take a look at it later. He picked up Clem’s crowbar, and started to undo the nails they’d used to secure the stairwell. He honestly wasn’t trying to be a dick, but if he just stood there like a dumbass, he’d say something they’d all regret. Eventually though he had to turn to face it. There were only so many nails after all.   
  
Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, Noah, Tara, Glenn and Maggie all stood there solemnly. Out of all of them, only Glenn could look Rick in the eye as he took a step forward, pulling Rick into a hard hug. “You follow that map. We marked where we’ll leave signs. You can follow us all the way to D.C., okay?”   
  
Rick’s throat tightened when Maggie stepped forward to hug him from the other side. “Don’t be mad, Rick.” Her whisper made Rick blink a few times so that he wouldn’t start blubbing right there in front of god and everybody.   
  
“I’m not. And I’m so.. sorry, Maggie. We all are.”   
  
She nodded. “I know. Apologize to Daryl for me. I couldn’t find him last night to tell him I was sorry for. For, what I said.” Her voice sounded broken. “I’m--”   
  
Rick hugged her to him, kissing the top of her head. He did the same to Glenn, trying not to feel like his kids were going off to college- but that wasn’t really that far off the mark. “Nothing to feel sorry for. You know that. You two stay sharp and keep each other _safe_.” Rick’s voice broke on the last. He cleared his throat.   
  
“Yeah,” Glenn sounded like he was about three seconds away from crying. Maggie could only nod.   
  
Rick broke away from them, holding out his hand to Noah. He didn’t know the kid very well at all, but his offer to stay so that Beth and Carol could go at the hospital had meant a lot, even with how fucked up everything had turned out. “You take care now. Listen to these guys.”   
  
“I will, Mr. Grimes.”   
  
Rick blinked. The title seemed so out of place that it made him smile. They shook hands and Rick turned to Abraham. “You good for supplies?”   
  
“Yeah. We ate and plan to find the rest on the road. We can move faster that way.”   
  
Rick had a weird sense of deja vu as he shook hands with Abraham, Eugene, and Rosita, fist-bumping Tara with a little smile. It really hadn't been all that long since they’d done this, only now? Now it felt more real. More final. Rick saw Sasha and Maggie talking low, with Glenn shooting them the occasional concerned look.   
  
“That sounds like a good plan. You need anything from me?” Michonne made her way to them, hugging both Maggie and Glenn and looking darkly at the other four, clearly considering them their version of home-wreckers. Rick couldn’t really blame her. “No sir. Look--” Abraham started. Rick shook his head. He didn’t want apologies. “You best be gettin’ a move on so you don’t lose the light.” “I-- uh. Right. Abraham opened his mouth, looking at his people. Rick would have bet actual money that Abraham was about to say something like ‘Move out!’, but instead just sort of gestured lamely towards the stairwell, looking a little sheepish at the way Rick smirked at him.   
  
It was a good note on which to leave off.   
  
Rick found that he couldn’t watch them leave, trusting to Sasha and Michonne to board them back in for safety. He made his way to the other apartment, noting that they had left all their supplies stacked neatly on the kitchen counter. A folded map was next to them, with a knife driven into it so it was pinned to the counter. Rick walked over and opened it, remembering the map he’d left behind at the church.   
  
There weren’t any words on this one. Instead a northward route was marked, keeping out of the larger cities and using the larger highways only to go through the mountains. It was smart, and Rick approved.   
  
His brain started turning over as he looked around. They had maybe a day’s worth of supplies left here. Rick rummaged through a box of stale granola bars and ate one, munching thoughtfully.   
  
Michonne and Sasha walked in, making a beeline for either Rick, or the granola bars. Rick wasn’t entirely sure.   
  
“Daryl took off.” Rick’s heart had just enough time to panic before Michonne finished with, “said something about going to scout out some of the other apartments. Look for supplies.” Michonne cocked her head. “He looked like he needed to be busy.”   
  
“Did he go alone?”   
  
“Yeah. Said he wasn’t much company.” Michonne looked at him significantly. “Lots of that going around. Actually, Rick, I needed to talk to you about something. You mind, Sasha?”   
  
Sasha raised an eyebrow and shook her head. Rick only considered following her for a brief second or two before he told himself to man up and go talk to Michonne before Carl or Judith or any of his other people needed something. It was a little hard to concentrate with the back of his mind blaring _Daryl is off by himself! Again!_ He followed Michonne back to the master bedroom that he’d so recently shared with Daryl, trying not to feel like a duckling meekly obeying his mother.   
  
This was a long time coming, really.   
  
Michonne waited until he was inside before she shut the door. She didn’t even slam it, which was ominous all in itself.   
  
Rick looked at the bed, then jerked his gaze away, while trying to stare at the bed in a way that Michonne’s calm gaze wouldn’t somehow notice. Daryl had tossed his sweats there on “his” side before he’d left and that made Rick question everything, because that? That was the sign of a man planning to return.   
  
Michonne cleared her throat. Rick started to say something, but shut his mouth when she held up her finger. His momma didn’t raise no dummies.   
  
“You will answer yes, or you will answer no. If I want elaboration, you will know.” She took in a deep breath “That being said, if you want out of this conversation just leave. No hard feelings, and I’ll never bring it up again.”   
  
Rick couldn’t have moved if a herd of walkers rappelled from the ceiling.   
  
“But, you look like you need to talk?” Her voice raised on the last word, turning it into a question.   
  
Rick nodded. He jerked his chin over to the window seat and sat. Michonne sat down beside him, looking out into the city. They could see walkers moving in buildings around them. Or maybe they weren’t walkers. Maybe they were people. It was just a shadow here or there; most of the windows still had the tinting that prevented just this sort of abject voyeurism.   
  
He waited patiently while she composed her thoughts. But, when she spoke, he didn’t expect what she started with.   
  
“You went crazy in the woods not too long ago. I didn’t ask for details, but I know you were messed up when you found me ‘n’ Carl again. But you took care of us in the end. With those guys. And Carl. Then later, it was Carl that saved you, well... Carl, and Bob, and Glenn. Then you took care of business _again_ just like you did with Joe and that pig that had Carl.” There wasn’t a question in there, so Rick didn’t answer. None of that was untrue, anyway. “Then, to finish out what had to be damn near the shittiest week in history since you lo-- since Judith was born, you were unable to save Beth. To bring her home to Maggie.”   
  
Rick felt his lip twitch as he tried not to react.   
  
“We put you in this role as leader, Rick. You and Daryl both. I don’t think... I don’t know if you realize that we all feel it when this stuff happens. We put you in that role. We make you stick up for us, and try to help you back to yourself when you have to live with what happens because of it. It’s not as much, but we’re yours as much as you’re ours.”   
  
Michonne’s voice was still calm, stating facts like she was reading from a list. She didn’t seem to notice, or care that every single word was hitting Rick in the gut.   
  
“Now, you have us split down the middle. Sure, Carol is hurt and will need to recover. She wouldn’t have slowed us down that much. And yes, you have Carl and Judith... and I guess now Clem to add to that, but you also know that any one of us will raise them like they’re our own.” She took a deep breath. “Because they are. And same thing; none of them would have really slowed us down all that much. So we could have left with them if we wanted to, yes?”   
  
Rick nodded. He’d been so immersed in the fact that they were leaving, that he hadn’t been able to put all that together in quite the same way.   
  
“Do you love Daryl?”   
  
Rick was nodding before he caught himself and froze.   
  
Michonne didn’t seem like she was all that surprised. She didn’t even smirk at the devious way she’d lured him into a sense of emotional stability so he didn’t think about his answer before he did.   
  
“So what’s stopping you from going for it: changing sexuality crisis, worry about the group, or worry that Daryl doesn’t want you as much as you want him?”   
  
“Look- Michonne, I appre--”   
  
She popped him on the arm. “Aaaah ahh ahh. I said yes or no only.” She cocked her head and waited, still looking unnaturally calm. “‘Cuz here’s how I see it. You had the space. You had the means. You even had the privacy for once, and the fact that neither of you came out of this room smilin’ tells me plenty. It’s a damn shame, if you want to know the truth.”   
  
Rick frowned. She was making it sound too easy. He opened his mouth again, only to shut it when she raised her hand mock-threateningly.   
  
“Well from your very loud silence, I’m gonna have to extrapolate. I used to be pretty damn good at this, so let’s see. The first reason is you’re having your big, gay crisis. Or your big bi crisis. Whatever.” She waved her hand around. “And I’m not making light. I’m guessing that this hit you kind of hard, if you’ll pardon the pun.”   
  
Rick actually shook his head no. It hadn’t. He didn’t really see himself as any different, once he got past the rather shocking events that had brought him to this point. He was still himself. Rick just wanted Daryl is all. There wasn’t some latent homosexuality crisis hanging in the wings. And he was sure that Lori could have told him the name for whatever he was feeling, were he all that concerned about shoving what he felt for Daryl in a nice shiny box with a label on it.   
  
“No? Hmm. Okay, then you’re worried about the group?”   
  
Rick scrunched up his nose, thinking. _Was_ he? It seemed kind of crazy given the state of the world, but yes. To some extent he was. Not because Rick thought that any of his people would be biased, but ... he’d been with Glenn and Maggie long enough that he’d teased them just as much as anyone else. Part of that was fond exasperation, but Rick was honest enough with himself that a little bit of it had been jealousy. As much as he wanted that, or some form of that at least, he didn’t want his business out there for everyone to comment on. How they lived now though made that impossible. Eventually, he shook his head ‘no’, in response to Michonne’s question.   
  
“Well using my impeccable powers of deduction, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that all this...” She waved her hand at Rick. “Is because you’re worried he doesn’t....” she paused. “Like you _back_ ”   
  
“Well, yeah! But when you say it like that...”   
  
She smacked him. “... it what? Sounds fucking ridiculous?” She stood up, then held out her hand for his. Feeling a little leery, Rick took it and kept up when she jerked him to the bathroom. Michonne flicked the lighter that materialized in her hand so that they’d have light. Rick had been so exhausted last night that he hadn’t even noticed the candles Michonne had set up by the mirror. Daryl had drained the water they’d used to wash up with, and filled one of the sinks back up. There were two bottles of water that Michonne had put there still next to Rick’s shaving bag.   
  
“Look. You’re not ugly. You’re kind of a dumbass on epic levels, but I guess you’re in love,” She pronounced it ‘luuuuve’ and Rick rolled his eyes. “So I suppose we have to make allowances for random acts of utter stupidity. So, here you go. I never really saw myself in the role of a post-apocalyptic gay matchmaker, but we all have our little crosses to bear. First. Shave. Try to feel like the old you, cuz this ... growth you have going on is intimidating as hell. I’m not saying it isn’t attractive, cuz hey. I saw how pissed off Daryl was this morning, so whatever magic happened or didn’t happen, it isn’t like the growth didn’t matter, but trust me. The shirt can stay. The jeans... well they can stay ‘til we find you better ones, but I think half the muck from Terminus is permanently ingrained into the fabric. Take some time. Groom. Yourself. Play with that baby girl. Try to remember what it’s like to be Rick Grimes, instead of our resident badass.”   
  
Rick gaped at her in the mirror. Even knowing he was looking like an idiot didn’t stop him. He’d known Michonne for just over a year, and he was pretty sure she talked more in the past twenty minutes than she’d previously done in all the months prior.   
  
She turned, hair swishing a little. “You can talk now.”   
  
Rick just blinked. “So your advice is to... ignore all the shit I need to do and spruce myself up some to catch me a man?” He raised an eyebrow.   
  
Michonne rolled her eyes. “No. I’m saying all the crazy shit you’ve been driving yourself nuts over will work itself out if you quit sabotaging every goddamn chance you have to be happy.” She paused, staring at him with a significant look. “Idiot.”   
  
Rick turned back to mirror, tugging off his shirt. He met her eyes, not missing the concerned way she raked her gaze over his chest, gauging the protuberance of his ribs like they all did to one another. “You gonna help?”   
  
Michonne’s grin was bright. “Hell no. I’m staying far away from that thing in case it reanimates and attaches itself to _my_ face. That sort of thing’s been going around you know.” She laughed and dodged out of the way of his playful smack with his shirt, closing the doors behind her.   
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Rick was on his back, staring a bit dopily at Judith as she used him to climb daddy mountain. She kept making it so far, pulling herself by her chubby little arms, before plopping down on her diapered butt with a belly laugh. Rick wasn’t sure if the point of the game was to fall on her butt or to climb over him, but either way, his girl was having a blast. She was teething, and it struck him then that Judith had done it almost... quietly. Carl had made enough racket for both he and Lori to put in half-panicked phone calls to both of their parents, convinced that the poor guy was about to die. The three of them had made it through with only mild trauma. Judith though seemed to take it all in stride. She only fussed when she really needed something. As long as she was clean and food came fairly regularly, she was pretty much content with life.   
  
Part of Rick wondered if it was a result of humanity adapting to their new existence with the dead roaming around, putting them in almost constant danger, but quickly shook off such deep thoughts when Judith managed to stand on his knees, only to wobble and grab for Rick’s hands when he did a crunch, changing her gravity.   
  
Even Carol snorted a laugh at Judith’s giggly scream. She sounded _delighted_ and smacked at Rick’s knees with her imperious little fist until he gave in and did it again, doing more of an airplane and catching her when she tipped over. God, he loved listening to her laugh. Judith lay against his chest for just a moment before pushing herself up, giving him a suspicious stare when she caught sight of his clean-shaven jaw.   
  
Then she leaned forward and gnawed on him, testing her new teeth. It was Rick’s turn to laugh and try to detangle her. Carl and Clem looked up from their game of Uno when Rick made a disgusted sound.   
  
“You can handle walker guts but not baby drool?” His son sounded smug, the little bastard. Rick didn’t know where he’d learned such disrespect for his elders from.   
  
“It’s fine ‘til she... ahh!! Come get her, quick.” Rick made sure he sounded just desperate enough for Carl to suspect nothing, then once his son got close enough he pounced. He grabbed Carl’s ankle and laughed when he windmilled his arms before falling over Rick’s chest with an ‘oooph’ of sound.   
  
Rick snorted a laugh when Judith kicked her brother in the face, then lost it when Carl retaliated by tickling his father.   
  
Judith _loved_ this new game: Gnaw Chin, while Carl did his best to tickle his father into wetting his pants. Rick was horrifically ticklish, and Carl knew that, the little shit. Between the two of them, Rick was attacked on two fronts, and Carl was just wily enough to use his body weight to his advantage, clinging to Rick like a burr so that he couldn’t get the leverage to fling him off.   
  
“Okay! Okay! Sorry!” Rick gasped out a laugh, curling up to protect his belly. Carl had managed to attract the audience of just about everyone. Rick had tears leaking from his eyes and had to gently distract Judith with the little toy Tyreese had picked up for her so that he could suck in a desperate breath.   
  
Carl wiggled his fingers threateningly. “You better be. I fight dirty.”   
  
Carol and Sasha were looking at him with open grins on their face. Michonne had gone to wait for Daryl in the hallway between the two apartments, and Clem stared at them with a wistful, shy grin on her face, like she wanted to join in but wasn’t sure enough to do so. Tyreese was laughing openly at Rick, shaking his head as Judith crawled over to him, pulling herself up to his knees by his cargos.   
  
Rick made a disgusted sound as he wiped the toddler drool off his face, grinning as he heard Michonne behind him.   
  
It wasn’t Michonne.   
  
Daryl stood there with his crossbow held loosely on his shoulder, staring at Rick like he’d never seen him before. The moment went on just long enough that Rick felt the smile start to slide from his face.   
  
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”   
  
Rick frowned, ticking his eyebrow and looking around at the kids. Tyreese still had Judith who was yawning, Clem and Carl had continued their game of Uno, one or both of them having wheedled Carol and Sasha into playing. It looked to be pretty bloodthirsty.   
  
“Just need’ta catch you up on what I found.”   
  
“Uh. Sure. I can do that.” Daryl turned almost on his heel and Rick looked at himself a little nervously. The borrowed shirt had ridden up and he was wearing the sweats that were just a little too big. His hair was clean, and his feet were bare. Rick felt just about as relaxed as he had ever done. He didn’t even have a weapon on him, which was pretty stupid. He’d just told Carl that they were never, ever safe. Still, the idea that he needed a weapon when he was with Daryl was laughable.   
  
Rick very pointedly ignored Michonne's pointed look as they passed her blocking the stairwell once again, banging the nails into the wall. Daryl stalked forward and Rick followed slightly more slowly. Daryl went through the empty apartment, and into the Master bedroom like his tail was on fire. Rick followed slightly more slowly, trying to think of what to say to whatever had pissed Daryl off, but without knowing what had pissed him off it was pretty difficult to think of responses.   
  
The door had swung almost completely shut behind Daryl before Rick got there, and he opened it a little hesitantly. Rick only had a second to panic before Daryl yanked him inside, almost throwing him up against the wall and stepping into his space. Rick blinked in shock, freezing in place.   
  
“Wha--” The word was lost in the press of Daryl’s mouth against his. Rick caught a flash of a heated blue gaze before his own eyes fluttered closed.   
  
Daryl kissed like he did everything else, with confidence and a tiny bit of sass. Rick groaned as Daryl stepped even closer into his space, cupping his smooth jaws with his hands and nipping at Rick’s lower lip, before licking it and diving back inside.   
  
Rick wasn’t sure when his hands had gone around Daryl, pulling them together, anchoring himself with one hand on the back of Daryl’s neck and the other on his hip, pulling him that tiny bit closer so that their pelvises bumped together in a filthy grind.   
  
Daryl pulled off Rick’s mouth with a breathless curse, kissing at Rick’s jawline and under his ear. Rick thought his knees would give out on him. His cock throbbed in response and Rick moaned, stifling it in the juncture of Daryl’s shoulder and his neck.   
  
“No. No, you don’t haveta be quiet. Let me hear ya, Rick.” Daryl pulled back and Rick sucked in oxygen, knowing he was panting and not able to give a shit. Rick swallowed thickly and stared at Daryl from only inches away, shocked when the other man dropped to his knees in front of him. Rick knew he was staring stupidly down at Daryl, but couldn’t seem to help himself.   
  
“I’ve been thinkin’ of this, of doin’ it right.” Daryl’s hands cupped Rick’s groin, making a U with his hands so that this thumbs brushed over Rick’s balls, Daryl’s fingers pressing against the sweats that were riding low on Rick’s hips. Rick looked down at himself, staring at the way the material hid nothing. He was so hard that his cock jutted out towards Daryl’s face.   
  
“I...” Whatever Rick was going to say was lost when Rick slammed his head back against the wall with a _thunk_ , groaning when Daryl pulled down the material so that he sprang free, leaning forward to nuzzle a little kiss on the tip. Daryl echoed his moan with one of his own and Rick nodded, cupping Daryl’s face with his hand, desperate for some sort of connection. Daryl turned to kiss Rick’s palm, which did _all_ sorts of things to Rick’s insides, before licking over the shaft of Rick’s cock, working his way down slowly to the base.   
  
“I’ve been on edge since this morning. Did you know I had to jerk off in that stupid bathroom, staring at myself in that mirror while I imagined you on just the other side of the door?” Daryl wrapped his fist around Rick’s shaft, pumping it twice before bending closer to lick at the head. “I told you to go away ‘cuz I was so fuckin’ embarrassed that I couldn’t even control myself. An’ you hightailed out of here so fast I knew there was no way you’d come, so I got to think of you hard for me all day.”   
  
Rick’s brain decided that it was just going to enjoy, thanks so very much, and fucked off to god knew where. He could only gasp, trying and failing at keeping completely still while Daryl worked him over with his mouth. Daryl let go and wrapped both hands around Rick’s hips, not holding him in place, but anchoring as he started to pull Rick deeper into his throat, slowly.   
  
Rick’s cock wasn’t any crazy length or anything, but he was thick enough that just watching Daryl’s mouth around him was incredibly filthy. Daryl seemed not to have a gag reflex. It took a few seconds, but once he caught his breath, he started pulling at Rick’s hips until Rick started tentatively fucking Daryl’s mouth, still afraid to hurt him.   
  
Daryl was having none of that, pulling off and ignoring the drool and precome, licking Rick off before going back down, giving Rick’s hips a firm tug.   
  
_Christ_.   
  
Rick got a lot less tentative, until he had fisted one hand in Daryl’s hair and was fucking him with smooth strokes, stopping so Daryl could gasp in a breath before sliding his cock back down Daryl’s throat.   
  
Orgasm was a heartbeat off when Rick tried to pull back. Daryl made a low sound, yanking Rick to him so hard that Rick’s balls slapped against his chin. Between that that the way Daryl _swallowed_ around him, Rick was coming with a cry, freezing in place as Daryl dug his fingernails into his hips. Rick came so hard he folded himself over Daryl, using Daryl’s back as leverage to keep himself from collapsing completely.   
  
Rick caught himself looking at Daryl with his feelings bared for anyone to see and quickly pulled away, kissing Daryl with an almost shy brush of lips.   
  
“I guess you like that I shaved.”   
  
Daryl snorted. “Something like that.” He adjusted his jeans and the small grimace of discomfort spurred Rick into action, despite his post-orgasmic lethargy.   
  
“Hey. Can I... I uh. Don’t know if I’m quite up to what you did for me...” Rick had no idea how to give a blowjob and following that had some pretty serious performance anxiety. “But I want to touch you. Is that. I mean, would that be okay?”   
  
Daryl used the wall to push himself to his feet. “How do you want me?”   
  
“The bed. Like this morning.” Rick had felt his own power there, and had loved the almost helpless way Daryl had reacted to his touch.   
  
Daryl seemed to like that just fine, stripping in record time and crawling back onto his side of the bed. Rick lost the shirt and kicked off the sweats that had puddled by his ankles, still feeling tingly from coming. He staggered once and Daryl just smirked at him, raising an eyebrow from where he lay on the bed.   
  
It only took a few minutes for Rick to press himself against Daryl again, cupping his chin on Daryl’s shoulder and reaching for his cock with his left hand. He paused then brought his hand to his mouth, licking his palm, before wrapping it around Daryl’s cock.   
  
“Aw, fuck.” Daryl actually whimpered, sounding almost punched-out with shock, which was kind of funny when Rick thought about it.   
  
“I loved touching you.” Rick’s whisper caused Daryl to shiver, turning away from Rick so his face was pressed into his bicep against the pillow. Rick adjusted his body, rubbing at Daryl’s frenulum. “I didn’t even think about the fact that I’ve never even touched another guy’s cock before.” Rick tightened his fingers around the other man’s dick, squeezing slightly. “I just _did_ it.”   
  
Daryl liked that, sucking in a serrated breath and rocking into Rick’s fist with a little growl. Rick rubbed his chin against Daryl’s shoulder and turned his head so that he could lick and kiss at Daryl’s neck, half afraid he’d say something stupid.   
  
The basics were pretty easy. This was the same angle that Rick could use to go at his own, and even with the awkwardness of figuring out what to do with his other arm- Rick finally just slid it under Daryl’s pillow, holding himself up on his elbow- Daryl’s responses were perfect. His breath got quicker, the little moans and sighs grew louder. Rick alternated his strokes with sliding his thumb up and over the sensitive head, over the slit and spreading the precome around as he jerked Daryl off.   
  
It didn’t last very long. Daryl froze, his hips rocking hard into Rick’s fist, his hand digging into Rick’s forearm again as he came, almost silently. He shot twice, and Rick looked in time to see it bubbling up over his fingers and sliding down over his knuckles. He was shocked that he wanted to taste it, but no. That was probably too much.   
  
Daryl turned, pressing his face into the pillow as he gasped in air and Rick found himself trying to ease away without seeming entirely weirded out by the fact that he was essentially cupping someone else’s come in his hand, afraid to get it on the sheets. Eventually he wiped it on the corner of the fitted sheet, snorting a little laugh at his own ineptitude.   
  
“Shiiit,” Daryl sighed, pushing his hair back off his head. He leaned over and gave Rick a quick kiss on the lips, because apparently that was something they did now, and flopped back onto his stomach, stretching out and kicking at the sheets until he could grab them and pull them up over the two of them. “I’m beat. You goin’ to sleep?” Rick shrugged. Tyreese was on first watch, and was supposed to get him in about three hours. None of them quite trusted having that much space between the two apartments with them being empty the way they were. “I got watch in a bit. I better move to the couch.”   
  
“Right. Well, I do actually have shit to tell you. I just got... distracted.”   
  
Rick got that. He’d much rather just flop down beside Daryl and go to sleep. Instead, he stood and dressed in the filthy jeans and his appropriated t-shirt. It had stretched enough that it wasn’t so skin tight anymore. He found some socks and looked around for his boots. “No problem. You can just tell me tomorrow. I think we’ll stay here tomorrow to let Carol rest before we head out.“We can plan all that tomorrow though.” Rick blushed, feeling ridiculous. He smiled down at him, fighting the urge to kiss Daryl on the forehead before he left. “Goodnight, Daryl.”   
  
“‘Night.” Daryl’s voice was muffled in the pillow.   
  
Rick sighed and clipped on his gunbelt. He shut the door with a small click, half-afraid that Michonne would be standing there smiling smugly at him. He walked quietly to the couch and stretched out, deciding to nap before Tyreese came and got him for watch. Rick’s mind was whirling with everything that had just happened, but he was also exhausted enough that one he forced himself to clear his mind, he fell asleep quickly.   
  
TBC!


	18. Chapter 18

Rick cocked his head, looking around at the apartment lobby. Everyone was busy adjusting straps and hefting the weight of packs to get ready.The apartment building had yielded enough backpacks and survival gear- they’d pillaged from a bunch of weekend warriors on the eighth floor- that everyone was able to have their own pack. They had managed to find clothes for everyone, and roughly one change of clothes for each. Carl and Clem had been the hardest to find clothes for. There weren't a lot of kids their age in this area of uptown for whatever reason. The feeling kind of hanging around them was that of anticipation. Rick was pretty sure he wasn't the only one to be antsy to get going.   
  
Carol and Daryl had seen to getting things for Judith. Rick had carefully not asked any questions as to why Carol would know of a place in the city where they would find stuff for children. They had come back with several cloth and disposable diapers, and four cans of formula. Everyone had two large bottles of water, and they had opted for smaller, lighter foods such as ramen and granola and cereal bars. The bars were sometimes stale, but they were light enough and compact enough that they could easily be divvied up between everyone.  
  
They had ended up staying for two full days, and Carol was the one that made it clear she didn’t want to be in the city anymore. Daryl had quickly agreed, and surprisingly Clem right afterwards. Rick had sent Tyreese and Sasha out to scout for a vehicle, and they were waiting for them to return before deciding how much of the canned goods to take.  
  
Really, the only concern was weapons. Carol had been leery of splitting up for too long in such a large space where they could easily be overrun, so they had pretty much only done the few buildings around the one they’d been living in. Rick understood that. He was nervous enough when someone left, even in pairs, that he drove everyone nuts with his pacing until they’d gotten back.  
  
Clem had her knife, and Carl and Sasha had a Glock. They had several rounds of ammo for it, so it helped to have two weapons using the same ammo. Rick had his Python of course, and his own knife. Daryl had a crossbow, and some undetermined number of knives on his person. Carol had an AK-47, her knife, and a Baretta that she’d had since they’d left Herschel’s farm. Tyreese refused to carry a gun, but he did have two knives, one strapped at his hip and the other on his leg. Carol’s ammo was low enough that it was somewhat of a concern. Michonne had her katana. Rick had no idea if she had other weapons on her. With the way her clothes hugged the curves of her slight body he kind of doubted it, and sure as shit wasn’t about to ask.  
  
Rick wondered if Maggie and Glenn had known that Abraham was leaving them with the shit end of the stick when it came to weapons, then crushed the thought as unworthy. Rick couldn’t have said that he wouldn’t have done the same had their positions been reversed. Oh he would like to think that he’d be the good guy, but there had been enough times that he very decidedly _hadn’t_ been. It didn’t matter if they knew or not. They probably figured, and rightfully, that between the adults, they would find enough ammo on their way north to make it.  
  
Rick really hoped that Sasha and her brother found a car. He’d hate to leave the pile of canned goods where they were. With so many of them, and with Judith to protect, they had to keep their packs light. Everyone had stuffed a few cans in there, but only enough for maybe two days. They’d scavenged the apartment building and had a small stockpile of canned goods in the lobby, waiting for their friends to show up. If they were mobile, they could take the food. If they had to leave on foot, then they’d abandon it.  
  
“Ya know, if fuckin’ creeps me out that this building is so empty. We’re only about ten blocks from that hospital.” Daryl was leaning against the wall, waiting.  
  
Rick had been carefully not looking at him, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to keep his face neutral.  
  
That was the other thing.  
  
Rick had thought by the way Daryl had thrown him against the wall that them having sex was something that would happen more than that once. And it probably would have if Rick hadn’t done two very stupid things.  
  
The first was he had assumed Daryl would want to be open about their friendship. Daryl had most assuredly had _not_ if by the way he’d jerked away when Rick had leaned in to give him a kiss after Daryl had completely trounced them all at at monopoly was any indication. They had all been playing and Rick hadn’t thought. He didn’t mean to do anything that Daryl wouldn’t like... it had just happened. Rick had laughed it off at the time, hoping that no one had noticed. Clem had, and Michonne noticed everything. Clem had looked at Rick, with a slightly confused wrinkle to her forehead, and Michonne had raised an eyebrow in Daryl’s direction after he had gotten up and made himself scarce. For the rest of the game, Rick had been hyperaware of the fast gulf of space between him and Daryl.  
  
Everyone else had either been oblivious, or had acted oblivious and Rick had gone to bed later after his watch, unsure if Daryl would be there or not. He hadn’t been, and it had taken Rick several hours to go to sleep.   
  
The second thing  that Rick had screwed up was a little less... concrete. Rick didn’t know what he had done, although he had had a very good guess.  
  
Daryl must have slipped into bed with him at some point. Rick didn’t remember Daryl waking him up in the middle of the night, so the archer had to have been stealthy. Rick knew that some part of his mind had flagged Daryl as ‘safe’, but he was a little surprised that his reflexes hadn’t kept Rick from reacting.  
  
Either way, one second he’d been asleep, and the next he’d woken up with Lori’s name on his lips. Rick had absolutely no fucking idea why his brain would decide that _now_ of all times was when he should have a sex dream about his late wife, but he’d been half hard and had woken Daryl up.... with whatever he had done. _Jesus._  
  
Rick was pretty sure it hadn’t been Daryl’s name he’d mumbled in his sleep, and cringed to think of Daryl listening to him dream. God knew what was in the other man’s head, but every time Rick had tried to get close to Daryl to talk about it, it hadn’t gone well at all. Daryl had the simple offense of staying near their party members at just about every minute of the day they’d had left, rightfully assuming that Rick would not bring it up in front of them.  
  
Which brought them to now. Two very awkward days later.  
  
“Maybe the cops cleared it and used it as a supply dump. Some of the rooms were picked through.”  
  
Daryl just nodded. Carol narrowed her eyes at Rick and he tightened his lips.  
  
God, he was so bad at this.  
  
Fortunately, the sound of a car pulling up stopped what little conversation there was. Rick straightened up and they all looked around. It was Sasha and Tyreese, and they were both grinning from the front seat of a minivan.  
  
“A Minivan?” Michonne sounded amused.  
  
“Tyreese found it. It had gas in it, but no gas cans. We found those in the garage and siphoned enough for us to get us a pretty decent start.” Sasha sounded rightfully proud of herself. The van had obviously had something dead in it previously, but the smell would go away if they traveled long enough.  
  
“Right then. Load up. Let’s get the hell out of here.”  
  
There were only seven seats, and nine of them, but since three of them were pretty small they all managed. The food was quickly loaded up in the back of van, and they managed to all squeeze in there, although the end result looked a lot like they were playing Tetris with all the backpacks and gear. Tyreese drove, with Daryl riding shotgun. Sasha and Carl grabbed the second row of seats, with Carl holding Judith. Rick wished that they could find a car seat for her, but since they’d probably only be able to go 40 miles an hour, he trusted Tyreese to avoid what obstacles he could.  
  
“Well, it’s not for long. We can pick up another car somewhere. But Carol’s right. Time to get the hell outta Dodge.” Tyreese looked at Daryl, only to frown a little when Daryl was too busy chewing on his cuticle and gazing out the window at the small herd of walkers approaching their position to respond.  
  
“We best go then,” was all he said, and Tyreese complied.  
  
Rick felt absurdly like a teenager who had screwed up, _knew_ he screwed up, but didn’t know how to fix it as they drove away, staring moodily out of his own window.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Oh _shit!!_ Watch _out_!”  
  
Daryl’s scream and the subsequent swerve of the van on the road had Rick coming out of his doze with a startled grunt. His arm flew out, noting that Carol simply snatched Judith out of Carl’s arms and curled around her, trusting to Rick and Michonne to brace her for impact. They both did, flinging one arm to brace themselves, and the other to keep Carol in her seat.  
  
Rick heard the tires screech and there was a horrible, jarring thud.  
  
For a moment, the only sound was the ticking of the engine. They were tilted crazily, almost at a 45 degree angle.  
  
“Fuuu-ck.”  
  
Rick could pretty much count the number of times he’d heard Tyreese swear on two _fingers_ , so to say his adrenaline ratcheted up was an understatement.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Sasha’s voice was high with terror. She put one hand to her head. It came away bloody.  
  
“Okay, you guys are gonna have to listen to me and move very, very carefully. I’m afraid if we unbalance this bastard we’re all goin’ in.”  
  
Rick was suddenly very sure he didn’t want to know what ‘in’ entailed. Tyreese’s voice was shaking, and that couldn’t possibly be good. In the silence the groaning growls of several walkers could be heard.  
  
“What’cha thinkin’, hoss?” Daryl didn’t move so much as a finger. The only way Rick could tell he was nervous was by the muscle ticking in his jaw.  
  
“We’re gonna have to have the kids go back, and Sasha, then we’re movin while they’re movin’, and Michonne is movin’ out the back. Otherwise we’ll end up ass over teakettle into a pile of... _that_.”  
  
Rick slowly reached back and did the latch on the hatchback of the minivan. Michonne helped him guide it open so that it didn’t bounce, and without needing to be told, Carol scooped her pack with one hand and tightened her grip on Judith, climbing out carefully. Clem slowly poked her head up over the seat, her hazel eyes terrified.  
  
“Come on now, you and Carl next.” Michonne’s voice was smooth but had a note of steel to it. No one disobeyed that voice, and his son and Clem were no exception. Sasha came next and Rick saw Daryl jerk his head at Tyreese.  
  
Tyreese nodded and moved to where Carl had been with agonizing slowness, as Sasha moved between the two seats and climbed out of the back.  
  
“Come on, Michonne. You’re up.”  
  
“No- your heavier. It needs to be you.” Michonne insisted stubbornly.  
  
Rick knew she was right, but it didn’t sit right with him. Not because she was a woman- hell, Rick knew she could hand deliver his balls to him on a silver platter if she felt it necessary- but because he didn’t want her to get hurt. This van could go any second and---  
  
“Rick, man. _Move_ ,” Tyreese hissed. “We can argue later!”  
  
“God-- _dammit_.” Rick knew they were right and climbed out of the van. It jumped a bit and he froze, standing on the bumper, terrified to move. “Shit... you guys come on. Go!” His foot had caught on one of the backpacks, and he lurched forward, catching himself on the edge of the back of the van, heartbeat in his throat. Shit. _Shit **Shit**_ **.** Rick had been so worried about everyone else that he hadn't watched his _own_ footing.   
  
Michonne, Tyreese, and Daryl moved at the same time, Michonne standing on the opposite bumper, hanging onto the trunk with Rick, Tyreese moving into his spot, and Daryl moving into the middle of the van, where Clem had been sitting. Michonne and Rick jumped onto the ground, instinct causing the both of them to twist their bodies so that they fell backwards, landing on their backs so that they could scramble towards the van if needed.

The van gave a sickening lurch forward and Daryl met Rick’s eyes for one, terrified instant before Tyreese grabbed his arm and _leaped_ , yanking Daryl bodily through the back seat, Daryl ignoring being careful and scrambling for his life.  
  
He made it just barely.  
  
Rick and Michonne sprawled there, stunned, watching as the van finished tipping forward, falling as though in slow motion into the washout. Daryl pinwheeled his arms and was saved from pitching backwards only by Tyreese’s burly strength, yanking so hard on the front of his shirts that they all heard the low sound of the fabric ripping.  
  
Rick sat up on his elbows and stared, shocked at the suddenness of what had just happened.  
  
They had been travelling north, on Ga 23, sticking to some of the smaller roads as discussed with Abraham. They had all agreed that they wanted to go through the mountains in the easiest way possible, and that meant sticking to the foothills, and keeping away from large communities. Their first stop was somewhere called Walhala, then on through South Carolina, then North Carolina, and so on, until they got to D.C. Rick wasn’t quite sure where they were- he’d been asleep, but from what the map had shown, that city was fairly flat in comparison to the rest of the area. That had been one of the reasons Abraham had chosen it. None of them had particularly felt like taking a walking tour through the Nantahala National Forest or the Great Smoky Mountains with walkers ready to jump out at them at any moment.  
  
“Shit!” Daryl turned and actually looked like he was about to take a step towards the gully where the highway had washed-out. “My fuckin’ crossbow!” He jerked out of Tyreese’s grip and stormed off to the side, staring down at the mess below. His muscles were so tense that Rick was struck then with such a visceral memory of Daryl coming in his arms that he shivered, and hastily looked away.   
  
Rick settled back onto his back, fighting a crazy urge to laugh. So much for their good luck. They’d lost a good bit of their belongings. The only two people who had grabbed their packs other than Carol was Sasha and Clem, and that had been because they’d both been using them to rest their heads against while they dozed.  
  
Rick sighed. “Everyone’s okay, right?”  
  
Judith made a whimpery sound, and Carol winced. “Sorry baby girl. I didn’t mean to squeeze you.” She made as though to hold Judith out towards Rick, who stood, and just kissed Judith’s head. “I’ve got both of my guns. You better take her.”  
  
“No, I got her.” Daryl’s face was as gloomy as the day they’d found themselves in. “Come on, Lil’ Asskicker. Let’s figure out where we are.”  
  
That was the problem. Well one of the problems. They _didn’t_ know where they were.  
  
“I’m sorry- I had to go around a couple of pileups, and I ended up backtracking a few times.” Tyreese closed his eyes, obviously picturing the map they’d all poured over, so in case they’d gotten separated, they’d all know where to meet up.  
  
“Hey you don’t need to be sorry man. You saved our asses back there.” Rick's smile was strained but genuine as he looked at Tyreese.

Daryl absently buried his nose in Judith’s neck, inhaling the baby-powder scent of her.   
  
Rick took a few steps forward. There were easily fifty walkers not thirty feet down. Fortunately the mud from the washed out highway had fallen so none could climb out, although that wouldn’t hold them for long with so many of the living up here. Rick got the uncomfortable image of dangling a juicy piece of steak over a hungry alligator’s mouth and grimaced, rubbing at his beard out of habit, only to find himself smooth-cheeked.  
  
“Well, now what?” Carl sounded exasperated.  
  
“I guess that depends on where we are,” Carol chided, and Carl ducked his head muttering an apology. Rick couldn’t really blame him for the attitude. He was feeling the same damn way.  
  
“I guess we keep goin’ north. Find a landmark, a map, figure out how far off course we are, then regroup.” Sasha’s voice was clear through the gowls of the walkers and Rick turned, stepping back.  
  
He had been kicking a way to go down there and bring back Daryl’s crossbow for him, but figured that little plan would be naysayed pretty damn quickly, given the fact that Daryl didn’t seem to want much to do with him today. Besides the image of Rick holding Daryl’s crossbow up for him like a bunch of flowers was _uncomfortably_ cheesy.  
  
“Well, my bag had most of the diapers and some of the cereal bars.” Clem’s quiet voice startled them all. Rick walked back to the group, nodding at her. “You did very well getting that bag out. You too, Sasha. Carol--”  
  
She nodded, smiling. “We love her too, Rick.”  
  
God, he knew. He knew they all loved both Carl and Judith with everything they had. Some nights, it helped him to sleep.  
  
“We don’t have water though. And unfortunately, my bag was the one with the ammo in it.” Carl sounded frustrated. “Thank god I listened to you, Clem, or we’d be sunk.”  
  
Rick raised an eyebrow.  
  
Clem blushed a little when she spoke. “I uh. Made Carl give me some of his bullets for some of the diapers so we’d both have some. There is only a box though.”  
  
“Well, that’s better than nothing.” Rick chucked Clementine under the chin and she smiled a little wryly.  
  
I guess we have to go somewhere. Let’s go around this and head north until we can find out where the hell we are. Should be a mile marker soon.”  
  
“Within the mile, I think.” Michonne’s voice was smug.  
  
Rick rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks.” He sighed. “Anyone else want to make smartass remarks, save them up for the road. Let’s go. Daylight’s wastin’.”  
  
  
  
TBC!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I posted the last chapter and this one unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. I posted yesterday, so yes. That's two chapters in two days. Fair warning- a bit of a Rick wump to this chapter. But after that things get much better. There has to be H before C, after all. Oh. Not so incidentally, there is rather a huge cliffie at the end of this chapter. You might want to skip this one and wait until it’s resolved so that you don’t up and kill me before I finish it. :D

 

* * *

  
Rick was starting to think that he’d dreamed that little interlude in the penthouse apartments, that he’d gone from the misery and cruel reality of Beth dying to whatever hell-on-earth this was. They were hungry, they were cold and wet, and no one was talking much.  
  
Rick led the group. He didn’t even bother keeping his knife sheathed. He had it out in his hand where it would be useful. Carol and Tyreese stayed in the middle with Judith, Carl and Clem. Carol didn’t smile, her grim face on watch at all times for danger. Sasha walked behind them with Michonne, both doing their level best to keep everyone moving.  
  
Clem had shyly offered to give her gun to Daryl, who had looked at her up and down and shook his head. “Naw. I’m not takin’ your gun from ya, kid.” The loss of his crossbow obviously bothered Daryl a lot more than he let on, but he made due with knives, like Rick was doing.  
  
No one had talked much since they’d seen the border for North Carolina. That had been yesterday.  
  
It had been a clusterfuck. Despite their best intentions of avoiding the mountains, that’s where they found themselves; smack dab in the middle of them after a walker herd had well, _herd_ ed them much further north than they wanted to go. The walkers that had been on the highway, stuck in the bottom of the washed-out part must have been a splinter group, because the herd had numbered in the hundreds. Possibly more. Only their time on the road together from Terminus and their common sense had kept them safe. They’d escaped, only because walkers didn’t do so well on inclines. Rick and his people had stayed together, and they’d stayed alert, going north almost blindly.  
  
Once safe, they had gone from stalled out car to stalled out car, cursing the old world’s reliance on GPS instead of using damn maps, until they’d found one in a rusted out old Ford that at least gave them a sense of place. They knew in a general way where Washington DC was, but they’d gotten pretty far off track from Abraham’s plan, and that was worrisome. Right now, the plan was to find a road that cut through the mountains enough that it would make travel less arduous. The problem with such terrain was that they might go three miles, but half of it would be uphill. Right now what they were using was paved, but barely. It had obviously not been in the best shape even before the outbreak, and part of Rick was terrified that it would end in a dead end.  
  
Rick sneezed.  
  
“Goddamnit,” he muttered under his breath.  
  
“Hey Dad? Are we gonna stop soon?”  
  
Rick frowned and cocked his head, thinking about it. The rain wasn’t a complete downpour. It had rained like that yesterday after the crash, but since then it had just been a steady deluge, just enough to make everyone uncomfortable and cold. Even Judith, who had held up pretty admirably, had started to whimper. Tyreese had simply zipped her into his jacket and she slept a good bit of time, but her face and head were still uncovered. She wouldn’t keep a hat on, and they didn’t have a jacket with a hood, so his girl was getting wet and didn’t much care for the experience.  
  
“ I think there was a sign for a campground north, about ten miles. If nothing else maybe there will be a cabin or something.” Sasha pushed her bedraggled hair out of her way and tried for a tired smile.  
  
Rick looked down at the map with a frustrated sigh. Figures that they’d find the only map made before Carter was president. There was no sign of a campground on it, but since the road they were currently on wasn’t marked either, it was hard to bitch. “Sounds better than this shit.” Rick turned back to where Sasha walked, only to find Daryl staring at him. It was unnerving enough that Rick found himself freezing for a moment in surprise.  
  
He and Daryl both had segued naturally into their ‘don’t talk about emotional shit’ default, even though Rick found that he really, truly wanted to figure out exactly where Daryl’s head was. He’d honestly thought that they had been... good. Better than good. Rick had a very uncomfortable thought and frowned, moving his gaze over to the group.  
  
Maybe it hadn’t been anything Rick had done. Maybe Daryl had just not wanted to fuck up his chances with... well, that’s where Rick got a little confused. Daryl had said he wasn’t with Carol, and Carol looked to be sort of with Tyreese. Not that either one of them were obvious in any way, but they were relaxed around each other. Trusting. Finishing each other’s sentences, like he and Daryl had once done. Daryl didn’t really talk to Sasha, and she was still getting over Bob, so that didn’t seem like it would work. Sasha was beautiful though, strong and sweet. So it was _possible_. Maybe. That left Michonne. Rick couldn’t stifle the stab of pure jealousy that cleaved through him at the wholly unworthy thought. He should be happy and supportive or some shit. Not ready to gnaw out his own liver.  
  
Or... he’d completely misread all of this and Daryl was talking about--- no. Obviously not. Or Daryl wouldn’t have pulled away. Thinking that way was just wishful thinking and would only end in something else happening.  
  
Judith’s cry echoed through the woods and Rick started, coming out of his head and into reality.  
  
“You guys good if we stop for a bit?” There was weary acceptance from his people and they made their soggy way to the side of the road. Aside from the herd of walkers they’d ran from yesterday, the dead had been few and far between. Which Rick was definitely not complaining about. There were two fallen trees that most of them could squeeze onto, and they huddled together somewhat pitifully, resting while they could.  
  
Their midday meal was the last few cereal bars. Judith had a bottle, and Rick couldn’t help but give her some of his cereal bar to gum to death to go with it. Clem and Michonne got up to go to the bathroom, and Rick was absolutely floored when Daryl plopped down beside him.  
  
Rick couldn’t help the way he tensed, but feeling Daryl’s body next to him was... it was... god, he craved that heat like a drug. Daryl leaned forward a little to brush the rain from Judith’s face. “She holding up okay?”  
  
Rick nodded. “How about you?” Daryl turned, and their proximity was such that there were only inches between their lips. Rick shifted so that they had more space, absently feeding Judith more of his cereal bar. Way back (and Rick definitely meant _way_ back given that the last time he’d been this confused was when he was sixteen and trying to get the popular, cute cheerleader, Lori Haversham to notice him) when he’d had occasion to flirt, he and Lori had run hot and cold like this. His skills weren’t even rusty. They were non-existent.  
  
“Hey.” Daryl’s voice was the low growl from the bedroom and Rick was pretty sure that the goosebumps that just marched over his body was not from the wet, cold rain. Rick didn’t meet his eyes, but Daryl didn’t seem to care, leaning forward minutely so that his lips were just inches from Rick’s ear. “‘M sorry, man. I can explain later when we have some damn privacy, but I’m sorry I’ve been actin’ like a damn idiot. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I just--”  
  
“Hey Dad? You gonna eat or give it all to Judy? I think she’s good.” Carl’s laugh was bright and Rick blinked down at his daughter who was beaming at him with crumbs all over her drooly face. It was both utterly disgusting and completely adorable. Even more interesting, Daryl didn’t jump away from him like a scalded cat, instead easing away normally and snorting a laugh at Judith's antics.  
  
She just looked so damn pleased with herself.  
  
Rick popped the rest of the cereal bar in his mouth, feeling more like himself. He wiped Judith’s mouth, changed her diaper (she  _definitely_  did not approve of the cold rain then) and gave her back to Tyreese so she could burrow into his jacket. Rick couldn’t help the slightly shy smile he gave Daryl, and hoped that it didn’t look too goofy.  
  
Everyone wandered out into the woods in twos, always careful, and made their way back, squelching along in the rain and the mud. “At least if there are any walkers, we’ll hear them coming.” Carol sighed.  
  
“Speak for yourself. My boots are more holes than leather right now. I think my damn toes froze sometime around sunup.” Daryl even speaking was surprising enough, but a joke had everyone peeking at Rick out of the corner of their eyes.  
  
“Poor baby. Lost his crossbow _and_ has cold tootsies.” Carol was probably the only person left alive that could make a joke about Daryl’s crossbow and not die from a glare of instant redneck death.  
  
Rick wasn’t even that brave.  
  
They were still soggy and wet, but much more light-hearted as they made their way to the campground.

* * *

  
  
“Hey, Rick? I think this is the spot.”  
  
Tyreese’s voice jarred him out of his reverie, and he stopped suddenly, feet slipping a little in the mud. The group stood looking somewhat bedraggled, staring at him with almost identical expectant looks on their faces. Rick felt himself blush and cursed his lack of beard, which would at least hid it. He’d been thinking forward to whatever ‘privacy’ he and Daryl could cobble together and had been lost in his own little world.  
  
“The Whiteriver Campground?” Rick peered down at the soggy map again. There was a river near where he thought they were, but the fold was such that Rick couldn’t read what the river was called. Rick shrugged. Carl and Michonne were leading the group towards a group of buildings on the other side of the campsite and he trudged along. The driveway was on the edge of a pretty sharp incline. It was pretty enough Rick supposed, given how high up they were. In a vehicle it wouldn’t be all that bad, but walking uphill in the mud was getting real old, real quick. Rick’s calves would be able to crack walnuts at this rate.  
  
Clementine was slightly ahead of them as they walked up the graveled path towards the campground. She was carrying Judith, who was wearing Clem’s hat and laughing. Daryl was just ahead of them, talking to Carol. Rick heard the name ‘Tyreese’ and purposefully hung back a little so that they could talk. Rick could see the campground had been built into the edge of the mountain, so that the campers would have a very scenic view. Now though, it was just a pain in the ass. Several feet away, on the other side of the campground, Rick could see the shadowy outline of some kind of registration building. Sasha and Carl cleared it and walked inside.  
  
“You’re pretty good with her.”  
  
Clem’s face fell slightly, and Rick saw her shoulders curl in just enough that Rick had to wonder what he had said to cause her to react that way.  
  
“Thanks. I like babies,” was all she said.  
  
“Well, I sure do appreciate your help. It was a lucky day when me ’n’ Daryl found you.”  
  
She smiled shyly. “I’m very glad you--”  
  
Rick didn’t even have time to brace himself. One second he was trudging up towards the campground and the next second the earth trembled and shook. Rick had been in an earthquake once when he’d had to go to California for a convention, and this felt a lot like that. His feet slid out from under him and the incline was such that he overbalanced and fell over. Rick slid down ten feet before he could stop himself. He managed to throw his weight forward onto exposed tree roots with a cry. Clem slid down slightly, sending a slew of pebbles and dirt crumbling down onto Rick’s upturned face. She managed to catch herself and Judith on the other side of the tree, but Rick could tell that the tree, tilting crazily and whose roots were now exposed from the mudslide, wasn’t going to hold for long.  
  
Daryl had turned at Rick’s cry but Carol grabbed his arm, shouting. “No! The rest could go at any time!” Between the encroaching night and the rainy conditions, it was hard to see clearly, but in the split second that Rick looked up, he could see that everything on the lower edge of the campground had been washed out, mud sliding down from further up mountain. A good bit of land surface had completely disappeared, but the rest was sliding down, mud and silt from higher up avalanching down. He could only see for a moment before he jerked his gaze back to the tree.  
  
Rick was terrified to let go, but he had to get to Clem, to Judith, and make sure they were safe. He shifted slightly, testing his hold and the tree slid further down. Rick jerked his gaze to Clem, then over to Daryl. The tree slid another few inches. It was going to go any second, and there was nothing Rick could fucking do about it.  
  
“Daryl!’ Clem’s scream had Daryl turning towards her. Clem _launched_ Judith towards Daryl, who took a step back to catch her, arms wrapping around her tiny form protectively.  
  
Unfortunately, the momentum from the swing forced the tree roots to give up their tentative hold, and it gravity quickly took its toll, taking a desperate Rick and a terrified Clem with it. Rick couldn’t do anything to stop himself from sliding. He felt his fingernails tear to the quick as he frantically tried to use something, anything to stop his fall.

“ _ **Rick**_!!”  
  
It was no use. Rick thought he screamed when he felt himself launched in the air, but couldn’t be sure what he heard as the mud fell onto him, from above, covering his body. Rick couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even fucking breathe as the filthy mud choked him, covering him completely. There was the terrifying feeling of freefall, then his flailing arms caught something he thought was Clem, but he couldn’t tell. It was human, and kicking frantically, so it was hard to hold onto, but Rick did with what strength he had left. They launched into the air again, and the freefall was much longer this time. He landed on his back with enough force that he lost the breath he didn’t have to spare, and felt Clem’s slight body land on top of him.  
  
There were only heartbeats before a torrent of mud pushed them further. He heard Clem’s screaming as they slid again, tumbling and sliding down the mountain. There was another thud as they hit something else hard, and Rick felt something really unpleasant happen in his shoulder. Rick was so covered in the clinging mud that he couldn’t tell which way was up. There was one more jump with the terrifying feeling of having nothing under him, then the painful slap of ice cold water, and the two of them plunged down deep. Rick let go of Clem on reflex, instinct keeping her close but letting her do some of the work of bringing them back to the surface. He broke through with a great gasp of air. Rick could still taste the mud, but oxygen was far sweeter. Clem clung to him like a burr, and Rick brought her to his chest, kicking with his legs to keep them from going under.  
  
The current was strong. Terrifyingly so.  
  
Mud and debris were still sliding near where they had landed, and in the dark Rick could see that he and Clem were already several feet away from one another. There were several things floating in the river, and Rick thought he saw the rotting, skeletal arm of a walker outlined for a brief instant, before Clem started trying to swim to safety.  
  
The current ripped her away from him, and they both screamed, fighting to get back to each other. Clem went under and Rick reacted, plunging under and launching himself towards where she last was. Rick couldn’t get his arm to comply, and the pain of his shoulder was bright enough that he cried out again when he forced himself to ignore it, to get to where Clem had disappeared. He felt the wet tangle of her hair, and his fingers brushed against the clammy cold skin of her neck. Rick hauled her up and kicked again with his legs, breaking the surface the second time with a weakly struggling Clem, coughing and puking up the river water.  
  
“I got you,” he gasped out, not fighting the current, just keeping afloat as they were swept downriver. They were pulled under a few times, but they took turns, working like one body as they fought to keep their heads above water.  
  
Clem had a death grip on his chest with one arm, using her feet and other arm to fight the rapids. “Yeah, but who's got you?”  
  
Rick winced, feeling something else give in his shoulder. Clem didn’t know that she was hurting him, and didn’t need to know. He sure as fuck wasn’t letting go, so it didn’t much matter.  
  
“Rick! Do you see that?” Clem squinted and wiped her face with her shoulder. Despite the river water, they were both still covered with mud.  
  
“Yeah.” There was looked like a door several feet ahead. It was still attached to two or three planks of the house, and it was caught against some rocks. The problem was that it was in the dead center of the river, caught against some rocks, and they’d need a bit of luck to get to it. “We’re gonna need to act real quick to catch it.” Clem shifted, nodding. Her jaw firmed with purpose. “Ready--?”  
  
Clem nodded and Rick tossed her as much as he could with one arm. Clem had cleverly used his chest to propel herself forward. Rick went under again and fought to get himself back to the surface, the current pulling him in what felt like three directions at once. He somersaulted and came up spitting water. His head broke the waterline just as he heard Clem’s scream.  
  
Rick was helpless to do anything but watch.  
  
There had been a walker impaled on the underside of the door on the bottom of one of the planks, and it looked like Clem’s weight had caused both the door and the plank to tip forward. The walker was snarling and biting as it tried to get to her, and Clem didn’t have a weapon. “Just jump! _Jump,_ Clem!”  
  
Rick tried to swim towards her, but knew that there was no way he’d make it there in time. He could only watch in the darkness, illuminated by only the moon and the weak flashes of lightning from the rain as Clem clung to the edges of the wooden door. She shook her head then flipped so she was on her back, using her feet to kick in the head of the walker.  
  
Rick cursed. He was close enough to grab the door, but was afraid that he would overbalance it, and send Clem into the river. Clem kicked at the walker’s head three times until it stopped growling and hung there, still impaled on the plank. Clem looked towards Rick and started to smile. They were stopped for a moment, still wedged against the rocks.  
  
Rick carefully eased his weight on the door, enough so that his chest and arms were above water, onto the wooden surface. “That was amazing. You... god _damn,_ girl. That was something else.”  
  
Clem’s smile wavered. Then she burst into hysterical tears. Rick was just as helpless as before, although he could pat awkwardly at her ankle. That was all he could reach.  
  
“I...I... I lost my... my... _hat_!,” Clem wailed, sobbing, trying to gasp in air in-between words. Rick knew that her hat was the least of her worries, but it was something concrete that she could rally against.  
  
“Hey. Come on now, you just kicked in the head of one of those things. That was great.”  
  
“I. I. Didn’t want to lose. Lose the door.” Her breath hitched in a sob, but she was slowly getting a hold of herself, which had been Rick’s intention with the compliment.    
  
“You didn’t. You kept it and we’re fine. Well, mostly fine. Alive, somehow.”  
  
Clem sniffed wetly and scrubbed at her face. “Yeah.” She hiccuped. “Yeah, we are, aren’t we?”  
  
Rick nodded, exhaustion warring with the adrenaline in his body. “Somehow.”  
  
Clem looked around. They could see indistinct shapes floating by them in the river. “My friend Nick said he used to go river rafting. I can’t believe people paid money to do this.” She made a face, looking up at the sky. “And I really hate this darn rain!”  
  
Rick had to quickly stifle a smile. “Yeah, well I don’t think they careened off a mountain first. Even if it was a little mountain, it’s a miracle we’re here.”  
  
Clem sighed. “I lost my backpack.”  
  
Rick put his hand under the water, feeling for his gun on instinct. He almost fell off the door when he felt his gun still in its holster. He started laughing at that, and if his laughter rang with more than a touch of tears, he figured Clem wouldn’t call him on it.  
  
“So... how do we get back to everyone?” Clem’s question was tentative, as Rick slowly got a hold of himself.  
  
“Well, we need to get out of this river. Then find somewhere to hole up while we get our bearings. There’s something wrong with my shoulder. Think I dislocated it. Then we need’t find out where we are.” Rick shivered, gasping a little. Daryl ‘n’ Michonne will make their way to Abraham’s next city, then we’ll meet up.”  
  
Clem ducked her head. Rick knew what she was thinking- the same thing he’d left carefully on the edge of his consciousness, the possibility that the mudslide had taken out everyone else too.  
  
No. No he would not... _no_. They were fine. Carl and Judith and Daryl and... no. They were _fine_. They _had_ to be.  
  
“Should we try to break away from this rock?” Clem’s voice was shaky, and it brought Rick back to here and now. He could worry about everything else later. Right now, he had to focus. He looked out at the water. Whatever light they had had was gone now. It was probably only an hour or so past sunset, but it looked like the blackest night. Rick looked over at the slumped walker and slowly inched his way around the door so he could get it off their raft. The idea of more walkers in the water with went against every instinct Rick had. At least on land, they could fight back. Here, they were fighting the water, the current, and all of the muck and debris floating in the river.  
  
Rick sighed. “Yeah. We’d best try to get to land. I think you’d be safer if you get down in the water like me, and use this to brace yourself.” He jerked his head at the door.  
  
“O-Okay.” Clem sniffed and looked around.  
  
Rick nodded. “Ready?”  
  
“Yeah. I-I guess.”  
  
“Come on. We can do this.” Rick tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong.  
  
“One... Two...” Clem counted shakily.  
  
“Three!”  
  
They pushed off from the rock, immediately swept downstream with everything else that had landed into the water with them. Rick hung onto the door for dear life, kicking when he could, and resting when he needed to. The current was much too strong to try to make their way to either bank. The best that Rick and Clem could do was just float.  
  
“How far do you think we’ve gone?”  
  
“It’s hard to say. We just gotta wait til it doesn’t pull so strongly and try to get to the bank before we are caught up in another current.”  
  
Clem took an audible breath. “Okay, Rick.”  
  
Enough time passed that Rick found himself dozing off and on, which was incredibly dangerous. Rick _knew_ it was incredibly dangerous, but couldn’t seem to help himself. He would catch himself when he started to slip then purposefully move his shoulder so that the pain would wake him up. He thought of the body’s response to hypothermia, to trauma, to falling off a motherfucking  _mountain_ , and knew that he had to get them out of the water sooner than later.  
  
“Okay, Clem?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Clem!” Rick’s bark startled her into full wakefulness. “Come on now, honey, we have to be ready to go. After this set of branches, we’re gonna go to the left, okay? Use this door ‘til you absolutely can’t. Then hopefully we’ll be able to fight past the current. It feels like it’s slowin’ down some.”  
  
That, or Rick’s legs were numb.  
  
“Okay.” Clem’s whisper sounded like she was just about out of energy.  
  
Shit. This was bad. They had to be ready to go, otherwise it would be easy to drown with the swiftness of the current. They were both lethargic and slow. Exhausted.  
  
“You count for me, okay?”  
  
“Yes, sir. One... two... _three!_ ”  
  
They pushed off, both kicking for all they were worth. It was readily apparent that the door had outlived its usefulness. “Drop it! Swim! C’mon, Clem.... _Go_ ” Clementine did her best, kicking and swimming as well as she could. They made it ten feet, twenty, swimming at an angle to the shore.  
  
There was a familiar sounding crash from just behind them and both Rick and Clem looked on instinct. For a second, what Rick was seeing didn’t make sense.  
  
_Blink_.  
  
An outpouring of mud and branches, darker shapes swirling along with them; a gargantuan faucet turned on high.  
  
_Blink_.  
  
The huge splash of something massive hitting the surface of the water.  
  
_Blink_.  
  
The shock of it bobbing to the surface like some ancient leviathan, looking for blood.  
  
_Blink_.  
  
Rick had time for a quick “Oh--- _fuck_ ” as he turned, grabbing Clem and protecting her in the curve of his chest before the grill of the vehicle hit him like a full-body punch.  
  
Rick saw stars before he was dragged under, the momentum of the vehicle flattening him like a rolling pin. He opened his eyes once to slit and barely registered the burn before squeezing them shut. He didn’t have Clem. He couldn’t fight his way back up to this _hedidn’thaveClem_! Rick didn’t know which way was up, or how to do something as complicated as breathe, let alone swim. The weight was heavy as it pushed him down, down, darker and deeper into the water.  
  
He was stuck under whatever it was, and even as Rick forced his shoulder into action, desperately trying to free himself from - _had that been a fucking car?!_ \- pinning him down, Rick could feel the exhaustion taking over. What air he had kept in his lungs spewed forth in a shower of bubbles, then the stars swirling in his vision were much, much brighter for just a second before Rick finally succumbed to his exhaustion and let the darkness take him.  
  
TBC!!!

* * *

  
  
(*runs and hides in a bunker with a year’s supplies of twinkies and Daryl’s crossbow.*)


	20. Chapter 20

Rick’s eyes were heavy when they opened. Pain assaulted him from all sides in an agonizing wave. He was drowning. It was easier just to go back to sleep.

* * *

There were words in the darkness speaking to him in a language he didn’t quite understand. They were insistent with a sharp edge that made the darkness disappear. It hurt to think, and he was too exhausted to try. The pain wasn’t new. He hurt in different places now, but the spark here and there, and over here kept him company; old, familiar friends that he welcomed. Occasionally there was something hot that was bliss on his sore throat, but the hacking, brutal coughs only made him want to retreat back to that comfortable blankness. He thought he saw a face; a curly-haired little girl with big, scared eyes and pale cheeks. A name came to him on the tip of his tongue, but before he could make his mouth work well enough to speak it, the wave crashed and darkness swam up to cradle him in its painless embrace.

* * *

Rick was having the most splendid dream.

_It was one of those perfect summer Georgia evenings that only seemed to exist in books. Cicadas kept steady time in the distance. The night air, heavy with the smell of peaches, ripe in the day’s sun, was just slightly cool, the breeze just slight enough to ruffle his hair. The occasional lightning bugs zipped through the air, peppering the dark night with bright flashes of light. Rick could hear Judith’s bright laughter in the distance as she tried and failed to catch them, and Carl’s deeper voice gently instructing her to be careful; did she want to hurt the pretty bug?_

_Rick was more comfortable than he could ever remember being. The porch hammock was an old friend, and the_ htttch httttch _sound it made as the ropes took his weight on the downswing matched the tempo his lazy heartbeat. He was warm, and content to just swing, using his toe when the momentum stopped._

__The man curled into his side was sleeping soundly. In sleep, Daryl’s face was impossibly young, the stress and worries of their life having melted away as his body slipped into slumber. Rick nuzzled his chin into the soft-smelling hair on his shoulder and smiled to himself, his lips quirking in a tiny, pleased grin of utter contentment._ _

_Daryl shifted and immediately Rick could tell something was wrong. Gone was the lazy warmth of a body curled next to his. Daryl was cold and it was_ wrongwrongwrong _. Rick pulled away to stare in horror as Daryl’s eyelids popped open, his dead, bloated eyes blank as his mouth growled open in hunger...._

Rick jerked awake with a start, unsure if he’d screamed out loud or not. There was a moment of panic when he realized that one- he was lashed upright, and two- he was moving. Rick couldn’t go for a weapon. He had just started to panic when he felt a small hand on his shoulder, grounding him. The moving stopped with a small lurch and Rick frantically tried to move his head to see what was going on, because what he was seeing wasn’t making sense. It was like looking out of the back of a car, or riding backwards on a motorcycle. He saw the same highway debris that was the norm now, long patches of nothing with an occasional stall or crash. They seemed to be moving at a pretty decent clip, and that? How the hell were they doing _that_?

“Rick?! Oh. Oh, _Rick_!”

The vehicle jerked as a foot was taken off the gas pedal. Clem’s small body wrapped around his, and Rick couldn’t help the surprised ‘oof’ he gave. “Clem?” His voice was a rusted out whisper.

“I. I didn’t know if you would wake up again. I wasn’t sure about the pills. I know you’re not supposed to take drugs but the book said that’s what you needed and you weren’t waking up and I didn’t know-” Her voice hitched, the panicked babble stopping for a moment so that she could breathe.

Rick fought through the confusion of his brain not quite firing on all cylinders. “Whoa. Slow down a little. Are you okay?”

Clem pulled away, her whole face frowning. “Am I okay? _Me_? A small fist whacked him on the bicep. Clem pulled out of the awkward hug and disappeared for a moment, only to reappear again in Rick’s vision, standing with her hands on her hips. “Oh I’m fine. Perfect!” The sarcasm was thick and had Rick’s head been working a little better he would have tried to respond. As it was though, he wasn’t entirely sure that this wasn’t some weirdly detailed dream. Clem climbed up on the back of the vehicle and there was the muffled snap of something being released, and Rick could move again. Clem held two bungee cords in her hand and for a second Rick thought she might strangle him with them.

He wanted to tell her thank you, to hug her back, to ask her any of the three hundred questions that had flooded his brain, but what came out was, “Is this a _golf_ cart?”

Clem’s face worked for a moment before she started laughing, bending over at the knees as the laughter bubbled out, chuckles and chortles shaking her slight frame.

Rick looked around. They had stopped on a stretch of highway, and were indeed in a golf cart. It was a heavy-duty golf cart, but still. He was in the bed of the cart, sprawled with his back to the cage with his legs out in front of him. There were two five-gallon gas cans in the bed with him, and a knife handle sticking out obviously from a black duffel bag lying near Rick’s booted foot.

Clem hugged herself, still laughing, her whole body trembling on the edge of tears. Rick tested his body. He knew that moving his shoulder would be a huge mistake. It felt like his arm was taped to his body, and the questions he had for Clem multiplied. The sharp pain as he breathed suggested that his ribs were bruised or worse, broken, and Rick winced as he slowly tested whether or not he could stand, using the cart to pull himself up.

To his surprise he could. His legs wobbled like a newborn colt’s, but he was vertical. The blood in his body rushed to his extremities, and Rick stood there awkwardly while pins and needles reminded him he was alive. “Hey,” He tried, and Clem looked up, only to launch herself at him in another clinging hug. Rick hugged her back one-armed, bracing himself against the cart. Even having only known her a few days, he felt like she was one of his own, and he owed her. God, how he owed her. “Thank you, Clementine.”

“I’m really, really mad at you.” She sniffed, glaring up at him through a beaming smile. “You’re in so much trouble.”

Rick grinned then brought his hand up absently to stroke his chin as he thought. To his shock, instead of the stubble he expected, the beard was longer and much more unkept. He froze.  
“Clem?” He started slowly, still not believing what his senses were telling him. “How long has it been since... since....?”

Clem pulled away and looked down at her feet. “I gotta lot to tell you. It should probably wait til tonight though. Or, if you want to stop now we can.” She shrugged, but Rick could tell he had upset her.

He wracked his brain for what to say, coming up blank for a few minutes. “Hey. I’m here. You’re here. It’s okay.”

Clem nodded and walked back to the golf cart. “The map says there’s a rest area a bit ahead that way.” She gestured with her chin, knuckled tightening on the wheel. “I hate rest areas.”

Rick nodded, a little confused. He didn’t know why she hated rest areas, but wasn’t an asshole enough to take over driving from her. It felt beyond strange to get gingerly into the passenger seat and be chauffeured around by someone younger than Carl. Rick shut his eyes, pain swamping him for only a moment before he forced it away. “Where are we?” Rick asked instead, trying not to let his lips tremble.

“Almost in Virginia,” Clem’s voice was short as she started the little cart. They headed out, going maybe twenty miles per hour.

Rick was quiet, still more than a little bemused. “I have a feeling this is gonna be quite the story.”

Clem snorted. “Yeah, something like that.”

She didn’t seem to want to talk, and Rick didn’t think it was right to push her. Last he knew they were either in South Carolina, or North Carolina, so the fact that they were almost in Virginia was startling to say the least. The road they were on was fairly calm. Rick saw a highway marker, and eventually the turn off for the rest area.

Clem pulled up and around, turning off the engine with a little twist of her arm. There were only a few cars scattered around. It was a smaller rest stop, with a visitor’s center in the center, and mens and women’s restrooms to the left and right. It looked like a tree had crashed through the roof of the men’s bathrooms, but other than that and the signs of humanity that had already scavenged the place, it was empty. Clem didn’t seem willing to take any chances. “You stay here.”

Rick raised his eyebrows. She looked absolutely lethal with Rick’s gun held in her hand, the safety switched off. She was wearing a hoodie that he didn’t recognize, and with the hood pulled up, she looked quite a bit different than the scared little girl from last week. Or last month. Whatever.

“I mean it. You haven’t really eaten anything in awhile, and you look like a giant scarecrow. Unless you’re planning on shouting “boo!” at any walkers, you stay here and guard our stuff. I’ve already had people try to take my cart.” Her lower jaw jutted out in a way that was Michonne all over. “Don’t let them take that cart. It’s _mine_.”

Rick wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh or to look around the pavement for pieces of his shattered ego. Rick didn’t have a weapon, and given the fact that he felt like a short breeze would blow him over, this was probably a good idea. Besides, Clem had been handling things just fine without him. It didn’t seem right to step in and take over, no more than he would do if Michonne or Carol were in charge. “Yes ma’am.”

Clem smiled a little at that. Rick grabbed the handle of the knife with one hand, frowning at his weak grip. Clem gave him a significant look and picked up a hub cap, banging the gun against it, making as much noise as possible as she walked towards the visitor’s center. No one had bothered with boarding up anything, so she had no problem getting inside. Two walkers shambled out of the bathroom area, and Clem dealt with them efficiently, kicking one in the shin so it went down and dancing back out of the way of its reaching arms, only to swing forward and stab the other one in the head. She dispatched the other almost as an afterthought and turned to look around, checking that no other creatures were in sight before disappearing into the visitor’s center.

Rick blinked. This certainly wasn’t the girl he and Daryl found in the apartments. It occurred to him then that Clementine had very carefully not shared her whole story with any of them. Granted, they had had other things on their mind during a lot of their time together, but it was strange that he didn’t know much about her, other than she had spent quite a bit of time in Macon, knew Glenn (talk about miracles!) and had spent some time around children-- which had ended badly. Asking seemed cruel.

Rick sighed as she came out, flashing a thumbs up. Trying not to think of Carl and Judith, and Daryl, Michonne... all of them ...was painful. Part of his mind screamed at him and Rick knew that he had to keep ignoring that part. Either they were alive and making their way to D.C., or, they weren’t. Rick swallowed hard and gripped the knife harder, noticing that his fingers were trembling.

Clem jogged up and slid into the seat. She had propped open each of the double doors, and drove her little cart through. She shut it off and hopped back out, closing the doors. “There’s an office we can stay in. I think we can make a hole in the wood; it looks rotted enough, so then we can have a fire. The days aren’t too bad but nights get really cold.”

Rick slowly got out of the cart, still feeling like he was three chapters behind. “Okay- I’ll go take care of that and you start tellin’ me how you got this golf cart.”

Clem cocked her head. She took down her straggly hair and quickly braided back, folding it under so that it was a tiny little nub of hair. A few curls escaped and she blew them out of her face as she bent over to take ook out a chain and keyed padlock, locking up the cart securely.

“How’d you learn to drive that thing?” Rick kicked at the wood so that a smallish hole would suck the smoke from their fire outside. If they were careful and banked it right, there’d only be a little light and it shouldn’t give away their position. Much.

“I used to have a Barbie car that was like that. Well, it was back when I was little, but it works pretty much the same. I just have to add gas and turn a key.” She shrugged. “Simple. I just practiced when you weren’t in the cart. I only crashed once.”

Rick blinked, grinning. He slowly started clearing a space on the floor, shocked at how weak he was. Rick had to take frequent breaks, enough that Clem had moved the gas cans to another part of the visitor’s center, and dug out some food and what looked like a pill bottle. She stashed the duffel in another part of the visitor’s center.

Rick shook his head. He hated that experience bred wariness, but she was one helluva smart cookie, splitting up and hiding their valuables so that if they were attacked, they hopefully wouldn’t lose everything.

When she was ready, Clem sat next to him criss-cross applesauce- Rick winced, remembering that Carl’s Kindergarten teacher teaching him that phrase- and held up two cans. One was canned mac and cheese, and the other was canned spaghetti. Rick’s stomach gave a demanding gurgle and they both smiled.

As Rick suspected, Clem talked when she was ready. “You died. I mean, you weren’t breathing. I don’t think. I don’t know. It was hard to see underwater, but there was this car and you were stuck under it. Do you remember that?”

Rick shook his head. He vaguely remembered something about a river, and he had one visceral memory of throwing up what felt like eight gallons of water,but that was it. “No.” He opened the cans and set them in the embers.

“Yeah. You grabbed me so I wouldn’t get hurt. Then you were knocked under. I think it rolled over you, but not all the way because you weren’t broken into little bits.”

Rick had a flash of Clem towing a recently dead him through the water, only to have him turn and eat her. He felt very, very cold all of the sudden and shivered, remembering his dream.

“You were too heavy for me to pull on the door, but I got us onto shore. I was pulling you by your shoulders and -” Her voice gave out. “ There was so much stuff in the water. It kept hitting us. My shoulder. Your chest. My mom made me learn CPR at the Y when I learned to swim and I did it and I heard you make a choking sound and.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t be you, but I had to see.” Her words tumbled out faster and faster until she made herself slow down.

Rick stirred the food with one of Clem’s spoons. Hearing about his own death (well, partial death. His brain would have had to go for him to turn.) was completely surreal. Cooking over a campfire in contrast, was almost painfully normal. The smell of spaghetti-o’s had never smelled so sweet. Clem handed him a pair of pliers without asking, and held up a small, stainless steel camping bowl for him to use.

“You’ve got the fine china, I see.”

Clem’s smile was weak, but it was there, and Rick supposed that was something.

“Well, you’re heavy. And I didn’t want to leave you, because you passed out again. I.” She stopped, clearing her throat, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t know if more mud would fall on us, but I couldn’t carry you. So I put you on the shore and waited until I found a walker.” She shrugged. “Covered you with the guts and started walking until I could find a way to get you with me.”

She sounded nonchalant, but Rick knew that she had to have been terrified. Not only being alone, but not knowing what she would come back to had to have been petrifying. The fact that she didn’t just leave him was itself amazing.

“Well, I found a house not too far away. I didn’t have a weapon and didn’t think to take yours yet. So stupid.” She poked at her mac and cheese, then started eating slowly, blowing on it so she wouldn’t burn her mouth. Rick was having trouble not wolfing down his food. He felt like it was a steak and lobster six course meal. “I came back and got you and made you walk with me. You were pretty out of it. You kept uh.” Clem darted a glance at him and blushed. “I think you thought I was someone else.”

_Oh Lordy._

“You were sorry to Lori. And to someone name Shane. And someone named Hershel. Oh, and Beth. You talked about Beth a lot.”

_Lovely._

“The house was better then the stream, but not by much. It had been messed up even though I found a hammer in the back, and I was afraid it would slide away. I uh, I blocked the door and fell asleep. Then a few days later I went to look for food.”

Clem was quiet for a long time. Rick took a chance, making sure his voice was very gentle. “Was someone... Did someone hurt you?”

Clem looked confused for a minute, then her face cleared. “What? Oh. No, no people. Just dead ones. We were in a small town but the houses were big. They were really spread out though and I didn’t want to chance getting caught in one but then I saw a wheelchair. It was tipped over in the grass. There was some blood on it and it gave me an idea. I’m kind of amazed it worked, actually.”

Rick finished his food and stared at her, enraptured. Shit. He didn’t know if he would have been this resourceful!

“So, yeah. Long story short...”

“Uh, no. If you don’t mind. I’d like the story. We got time.”

Clem carefully cleaned her bowl, wiping it out with an old rag and setting it aside. “Well, you needed something. Medicine. I didn’t know how to get any, but the place where the wheelchair was was an assisted living place? Like where old people go? Uh. Went. It was pretty small. I think it was supposed to be fancy, you know? Scenic and a pretty place?”

Rick nodded, his eyes widening. He could picture that. An exclusive home- either retirement or assisted living- in the mountains. From what he understood, given that he was out of it for the beginning, but once it hit, it hit fast. People barely had time to get loved ones and get out, and that rarely ended well. Places where there were sick and elderly tended to go fast. Rick remembered Guillermo, and the nursing home in Atlanta. That had certainly been the exception to the rule, and the idea of Clem going into a place crawling, possibly literally with walkers had Rick’s dinner shifting unpleasantly in his stomach.

“There was only one floor, but when I walked around the building, it wasn’t broken or messed up really. There was a window that had been broken, but it was pretty obvious the dead had broken it. Everything else was a really nice brick stuff. I guess because there were so many there? It was getting late, so I made my way back ‘cuz I didn’t want to do anything in the dark.”

“Okay...” Rick narrowed his eyes. Was she about to say what he thought?

Clem sighed. “It wasn’t hard to do really. There were a lot, but they were already old, you know? Smaller and not very big. I mean a couple were, but since they’d been locked up for so long... well, you know how they get less ... move-y after awhile? Whatsitcalled... Door mat?”

“Dormant.”

“Yeah. That. Well, they were very slow. I used the hammer and just tried to be real careful. They could only come one at a time out the door, you know.. like at the apartments?”

Rick had to bite his tongue, then he couldn’t stop himself. “At the apartments, there were always two of us! One to go low, and one to go high! Jesus, Clem, you coulda been killed!”

Clem cocked her head to the side. “Don’t do that. You don’t get to do that. You needed help and I was all you had,” Her voice was calm and quiet in counterpoint to Rick’s furious bark. She got up and walked over to the doors, making simple sound traps in front of them, so they’d know if anyone tried to enter.

Rick bit his lip, feeling ashamed and ungrateful. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Clem was quiet for several more minutes. “Clem. I mean it.”

“Okay.” Clem finished her chores and propped herself up against the wall, so her legs were out in front of her. “Well, the smell was gross. But, I didn’t want anyone else coming if they saw the smoke.” She ducked her head. “I shoulda done a big fire so Daryl would know how to find us. I didn’t think of that til later.” She actually whispered the last, like she thought Rick would be mad at her. She took a deep breath and continued, “I dragged them to one of the rooms on one side, then took the wheelchair and went to get you.” Clem frowned. “We stayed in a room on the other end of the place. You were real bad off. You made a bad sound when you breathed, like a rattle. You kept yelling too, shouting and waving your arms around. It was really scary, ‘cuz I couldn’t keep you quiet unless I put something over your mouth. You jerked around so much you kept knocking over the wheelchair and you are super heavy.” She rolled her eyes. “But I got you in there eventually.”

“By then it was almost dark again. Lee showed me how to find the key to a where they keep medicine, so I just looked for people who were dressed like a nurse and took their keys. There were only two people there that were workers, Rick. Isn’t that sad?”

Rick nodded. It _was_ sad. Survival of the fittest. Their whole lives were to that credo.

“Anyway, we didn’t have any supplies, and the rain was all the water we’d had.” She yawned. “So I found some. You kept spitting it back up, like a baby because you were coughing so hard.” She looked down, eyes gleaming wetly in the fire. “I really thought I’d have to use the hammer on you.”

Rick started, coming out of her story with a nod. “You should have. And you would have, and you would have been right to do so, Clementine. Never ever let your own safety come before someone else’s. But.. Okay you keep sayin’ I was sick. River water in my lungs, pneumonia? Bronchitis? Shit, I don’t know. But I feel okay now. Just kind of weak, and tired.”

Clem kicked the little pill bottle towards Rick. He picked it up, squinting a little in the low light of the fire. “Penicillin.”

Clem bit her lip. “I. I gave you one of those in the morning and one in the night time. You need to take three more and then you’re done. I think? I know it was risky, but I had to try! Either it would work and you’d be okay, or it wouldn’t work and you’d ... you’d die!”

Rick lurched up to his knees and knee-walked over to her, plopping gracelessly down beside Clem against the wall. He tentatively swung his arm in a one-armed hug, pleased when she gave him a sharp hug back, then rested against him, her shoulder slightly lower than his on the good side of his ribcage. Rick rested his head against the wall, noticing that after a second, Clem copied his position.

“How’d you know what to give me? Or how much?”

“I used to watch this tv show, and it was about a doctor that was young. My mom was a doctor and she said she used to watch it when she was a teenager. But he was always checking a patient’s chart.” She shrugged. “There were lots of charts around me. I just looked through until I found one with someone who was coughing a lot and copied the medicine directions.”

Rick hid a smile with his hand. He knew that show. He’d _loved_ that show.

Clem pulled away for a minute and retrieved a paperback that looked like it had been through a war. It was missing the back cover, and the spine had been creased so many times that it looked like it was about to fall apart.

Rick read the title, smirking a little. “2000 Nursing Handbook. 25th Anniversary Edition. This is what you used?” He whistled, low. “Damn, girl. So let me get this straight. You cleared a building that was bad off enough that grown men stayed away from it, got me, who is at least three times your size, into safety... twice, then gave me something to kill off what was making me sick?”

“ It was just math, once I figured out what a milligram was. You don’t remember any of it? Um. You uh. Needed help.. with. uh. Stuff.”

Rick wrinkled his nose. Well shit. “That cinches it. If you could handle helping me to the bathroom, and managed to not be traumatized by my skinny ass, then you can officially handle _anything_.”

Clem snorted, snickering to herself.

“Well the rest was pretty easy. I waited until you weren’t coughing as much. You seemed to breathe better sitting up, so I knew I had to find a way to get you going. Um. Your arm. I found some stuff on splinting bones, but I don’t think you broke your arm. Can you break a shoulder?”

Rick tried shrugging, popping out in a sweat when the pain swallowed his movement. “Maybe dislocated it. Or broke my collarbone.”

“Yeah, you passed out when I tried to move it. You’ve been sleeping a lot, actually. It think that’s what made it kind of easier to go, you know? I just tied you to the cart and found a map.” Clem took a deep breath, then said in a rush. “I’m sorry I didn’t go to try to find them. I didn’t know where we were when we got out of the river. I didn’t want to go up again, and you guys never told me the cities Glenn was stopping in, so I just kind of... guessed. I haven’t been in any big cities really. I kept to little roads and surfaces that were not in the mountain, ‘cuz we had food from the home place and I just needed gas. I’m sorry--- Rick. Do you think they’ll be in D.C. when we get there?”

Rick was nodding before she even finished. “No. None of that now. I mean yes! Shit. _Yes_ , they’ll be there when we get there, or close. There’s only so many ways to get into the city and eventually we’ll catch back up with Abraham’s route. I think that’s what Michonne and Daryl will be following. But I mean it, Clem. You were damn near a superhero out here. What you did... I can never repay you for that. You saved my life.” Rick was quiet for a second, going over everything in his mind. “I almost can’t believe it.”

Clem sucked her teeth. “Well, when I met you guys, you had just escaped from cannibals who had all of you so trapped you were almost dead, then walked across half of Georgia, only to catch up with them again, while you just happened to see the Policemen and found your other friend that you lost way on the other side of the state, where she was killed after you tried to trade hostages. Oh. Then you just happened to find me, who was being taken to the same hospital for goodness knows what.”

“Well, hell. When you put it like that...”

“Yeah. Stuff just sort of happens to us. I just tried to keep you alive. You don’t owe me for that. Carl and Judith need you.”

Rick winced at the mention of their names. His heart gave a funny sort of flutter, and Rick ruthlessly pushed it down, suppressing it.

Clem yawned again, and Rick shuffled back over, exhausted and unable to keep his eyes open. Clem made an ‘oh!’ sound and got up, coming back with a familiar looking belt. “We gotta go to sleep. No point in posting a watch since I put down the traps. We’ll hear them comin’ in before they know we’re here.” She kicked out the fire, smothering it. “Goodnight Rick. I’m really glad you woke up.”

Rick was really glad he woke up, too. “Goodnight, Clem.” He touched his Python with fingers that shook. His throat was tight enough that Rick wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or not. This girl. This brave, sweet, _clever_ little girl.

“G’ni’t,” Clem mumbled sleepily.

Rick tried to stay awake, but between the full belly and the relatively safe campout spot, he just couldn’t keep his eyes open. Morning would come soon enough. Maybe then they figure out exactly where they were, and plan how to to get to D.C. Maybe they could find traces of Abraham’s group, or ... or.. find out of Daryl’s group had caught up with them.

Maybe.

Rick sighed, turning gingerly so he wouldn’t jar his shoulder. He drifted to sleep with the sound of the wind blowing outside, normal, calm night sounds that took him from semi-aware to asleep in a matter of minutes.

TBC!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clem’s vehicle of badassery:  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> *Waves* Hi. Sorry for the AN, but I wanted to address a couple of comments I've gotten anonymously. Yes, I know this is unrealistic. Yes, I know it's very soap-opera-y, but as you're reading a fic based on a friggin' _zombie apocalypse_ , I figured I would take a bit of creative licence. :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I invented Masonburg. If it actually exists, then... oops. Also, here is where I mentioned before about spoilers for the comic and ~~probable~~ possible spoilers for the show. Angst for this chapter. Long chapter is LONG but if I had split it into two parts, people might have actually killed me.

* * *

Rick slammed the hood with a satisfied grunt of approval. When Rick thought about rolling into a new town with all of his belongings on his back, he didn’t often picture doing so with a 1988 Toyota Tercel. Almost as punctuation to Rick’s thought, Clem stood near the back panel, looking doubtfully at the balding tires. Rick hid a smile. It wasn’t fancy, but it would get them there. Rick winced when the movement jarred his shoulder. “We have only about 120 miles to go. I think we’ll be fine.”

Clem sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to leave my cart. I loved that cart.” The cart had done quite a bit of good for the two of them. It wasn’t exactly a speed demon, but since it was horribly dangerous to go fast on the roads anyway, the enforced 20 miles per hour was actually beneficial. Add that to the fact that yesterday was the first day that Rick felt strong enough to even attempt to try driving. He really hadn’t been able to rest on the trip up, given that Clem really needed him to pay attention, but he had managed to doze off and on. He’d stopped using the penicillin once he noticed that he had broken out in a rash (easy enough for Clem to miss) and his lungs didn’t hurt when he coughed. He wasn’t bringing up anything that looked infected anyway, so all Rick could do was hope for the best.

Clem’s cart had met its untimely death due to a pothole covered by a lot of rain. Clem had hit it going full-throttle, and it had flipped them out of the cart and onto the pavement. Rick had felt something snap in his shoulder, and wasn’t completely certain that he hadn’t done some kind of worse damage. He’d removed the binding from his arm when his fingers had started to swell. He could still flex his fingers, but his whole arm looked bruised and swollen. Parts felt hot to the touch.

Rick nodded. “Yeah, me too, kiddo. I don’t know how to fix that axle without a welding torch though.”

“I know.” For a second, she looked like she lost her best friend.

Rick thought he was impervious to sad eyes, but apparently he was a giant wuss. “The battery probably wouldn’t have lasted all that long anyway,” he hurried, clearing his throat.

“Yeah. And you probably should have driven a few days ago. We weren’t moving very fast.”

“Nah. I would have just sent us into a tree.” That was true, but Rick hadn’t minded Clem driving. She had enjoyed it so much, and it was a relatively simple thing to “give” her.

“We’re close, though! We are supposed catch up with word from Abraham in Lovingston.” Rick and Clem had used a lot of different roads to travel East, towards the coast. From there it was a fairly straight shot up 29 towards DC. If there was no word from Abraham’s group in Lovingston, they would check Masonburg. The closer and closer they got to their destination, the more and more Rick started to believe that he would find word of his people. Daryl and Michonne (and come to think of it, Tyreese, Sasha, and Carol) all knew about Abraham’s route. It seemed like a tremendous oversight now to not have made sure Carl and Clem knew where to go, but they had and what was done was done. Now though, it was hard for Rick not to get antsy. Excited. Terrified.

Every time he tried to be realistic, Rick had to remember Beth. He knew, they _all_ knew, exactly what hope cost. Theirs was no longer a world where hope was encouraged. Rick tried to tell himself that everything was fine, that it would all work out, but realistically, Rick knew that it might not. He’d spent a good bit of time arguing with himself over whether or not he should be wasting his time thinking that he would meet up with his children and his... And with Daryl, again. He was very much afraid that he had used up all of his luck getting to this point. But... god. It was hard for Rick not to hope. To hope that Abraham and everyone made it here safe. To hope that Daryl and everyone made it to Abraham safe. To hope that he and Clem would catch up with their people.

“Rick?” Clem reached out and touched his good wrist, a concerned look on her face.

“Oh, hell. Sorry. Was woolgathering. Let me get your duffel.” Rick did and swung it into the Tercel, going to the driver’s side and sliding in.

Clem’s duffel wasn’t very full of food. Back at the assisted living facility, Clem had scavenged every single drug she could get her hands on. Rick had felt a little guilty when Clem had insisted he take some ibuprofen, and that had helped a bit with his shoulder and arm, but there was quite a stash in that little black duffle bag. They had stuck to non-populated tertiary routes, and because of that had not come into contact with neither many walkers, nor many living. The one they’d seen had been an older woman and her younger, female companion, and they’d both hustled out of each other’s sight fairly quickly. Clem had been absolutely adorable in her fierceness; Rick had still been favoring his bad shoulder so he hadn’t moved very quickly. Clem had darted in front of him with her knife visible and teeth bared slightly. The woman had probably thought that the two of them were insane.

“Oh, gross. It smells like old fritos.” Clem made a disgusted face and rolled down the window.

Rick was pretty sure that was the smell of a long-dead owner, but he wasn’t going to say anything. The car started on the first try and Rick couldn’t help the ‘yeah!’ that fell from his lips as he put it in gear. It was followed immediately by a gasp of pain from the sensation in his arm. It was a manual transmission, and it slid fairly smoothly given god-knew how long the damn thing had been empty, so he had to hold the steering wheel with his knee and brace a little awkwardly so that he didn’t use his right arm. Rick gave it some gas and smiled as they pulled away from the small house where they’d found the car. His arm told him in no uncertain terms that this was not going to work, and all at once, he had an idea.

“Hey, Clem. You want to help me drive?”

She sat up straight, looking interested for the first time since they’d started driving. “Really?”

“Well, yeah. You’re a little too petite to see over the wheel of the car, but you can help me shift.” Rick looked around. They were alone and this was as good of a place as any. He quickly shifted down and showed her the basic ‘H’ shape on the knob of the shifter. “The thing about a manual transmission is that there’s an extra pedal.”

Clem leaned over to peer at Rick’s feet, nodding. “Okay.”

“If you listen, you can hear when the car needs to move to the next gear. You just have to shift it when I tell you. Now here’s first, and this is second. This is third, but I don’t think we’ll get there too much, and fourth. Some bigger cars have a fifth gear, but this little thing just has four gears. Oh, this is reverse.” Rick shifted, then had Clem put her hand on the shifter with his on top.

“First...second... third... fourth.... and on down would be reverse... then back down to third... second... Good!... first.... and neutral. Think you got it?”

Clem was concentrating on the gearshift like her life depended on it. She nodded, looking determined.

Rick started the car into gear, and Clem grinned when they started rolling. He would call out a gear and Clem would clumsily shift it into place. Rick only cringed once when it sounded like she stripped the entire transmission, but in less than ten minutes, they were trundling along at a steady 30 mph. Rick let the car drop from third and back down to second a few times, just because Clem beamed each time she successfully shifted. Smiling was pretty rare lately. 

They drove for several miles in silence before Clem spoke. “Do you think that Carl... um. That Carl is gonna be there?”

Rick’s lips twitched. “Yes.”

Clem smiled. “He’s nice. He’s a good brother and you’re a good dad.”

That made Rick blink a few times, trying not to tear up. He shifted down to go around a stall in the road. A few walkers were milling around confused, like they didn’t understand why they were there. It was easy enough to drive by them, and he and Clem didn’t even twitch. It had been a pretty common occurrence as they drove east and now north.

The length of the ride had seemed longer, now that they had a destination in mind. Eventually though, Rick found that with every mile that their little vehicle ate up, the more and more nervous he became. No, not nervous exactly. Excited. No. That wasn’t it either. _Nervcited?_ He knew that by giving himself permission to even think about meeting up with his kids and Daryl, Michonne and the rest, he’d pretty much accepted the fact, and now looked forward to seeing all them again.

Carl was growing so damn fast, taking on responsibilities that the adults took. Back at the campground, Carl had only given up Judith for a few minutes, moving to help clear the area. It was hard to remember that he was only fourteen. Rick bit his lip. This wasn’t the first time he’d gone to insane lengths to find his family. Hell, at this point it was almost a habit. Carl had had a few hiccups but he was no different. Would Carl have stepped up and continued to help? Would he have... believed that Rick was dead and gone on to take care of his sister? That was an awfully huge responsibility for a kid Carl’s age to take on. Rick couldn’t imagine any sort of existence where Michonne would allow Carl to harm himself. Whatever happened, at least Carl would always have Michonne.

 _Unless she’s dead, too..._ his mind whispered. Rick’s hand tightened on the wheel. Rick gulped, anxious to get his mind off that incredibly unhelpful thought.

The two of them stopped once for a quick, cold lunch, Clem beaming again when she successfully shifted down without anything grinding. Neither of them much wanted to linger, so they made a quick pit stop and got back on the road.

Twenty miles.

Fifteen.

Ten.

At five miles away, Rick’s heart started to beat a little quicker. Abraham had pointed out that leaving a message at a police station or fire station might not be safe, given that they both tended to be areas where a high number of dead congregated. Same with churches. After Gabriel, Rick was quite certain that he didn’t want to ever see another church again. Rick had come up with a plan. Since all of the cities Abraham had chosen were on the medium to small side, Rick proposed that they meet up at the first business whose name started with an A. If for some reason there were no businesses that started with an A, then they would go to the first that started with an R. If neither of those worked, they would just go to the next town. Otherwise it would be difficult to try to figure out who was taking which route in, and how to leave notification there. They would use the most obvious way into the town, from the north/south side as a drop-off point to leave a notification, be it a map or a note or whatever they could scrap together.

Eugene had even come up with a plan for what to do if anyone took the stuff. He’d found some red spray paint, and if the paint was on the north side of the building, but their message wasn’t, then they could assume that another group of survivors had gotten it, for whatever reason, but at least the paint would tell whoever was looking that they were alive.

Rick bit his lip when he saw the phone book weighed down on top of the car near the city’s entrance. He braked a little suddenly, and both he and Clem rocked forward in reaction.

Rick could feel Clem staring at him, so after a few minutes he got out of the car and walked forward. He moved the cinder block that weighed down the phone book. It had been covered in a plastic bag, but rain had gotten to the bottom. It was still readable, but Rick had to be careful not to rip the slightly soggy pages. He licked suddenly dry lips and quickly scanned. There was a smiley face by a place called Action Tire, and the letters GREATMN with a heart next to it. Rick felt his heart jump up to his throat. He actually turned the page, like Daryl would have scrawled ‘j/k lol cya there’ or something. He put the phonebook down and looked around. There were two walkers shambling towards him, but before he could move, Clem jumped out and dispatched both of them with the kick to the leg thing she’d shown him before while at the rest area.

Clem raised her eyebrows at him when Rick whistled. “Shii-iit, girl. Thank you.”

“Don’t swear,” she said with a small grin. “But you’re welcome. Are we going?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.” It wasn’t hard to find. Like most smaller towns, most of the businesses were located centrally.

The town was quiet, aside from a few small packs of walkers, and Clem caught sign of the red spray painted X and yelled out an excited “There! There!”

Rick couldn’t help but share her excitement. It was insane to think that this had worked, but everything had worked out. They went inside the store and there was a plastic grocery bag hanging from a shelf right as they walked in. In it was a note.

_Rick,_

_We’re all fine. It’s weird that this is the last letter that we’ll be sending. No need to stop again, because we found a place to go. Eugene was right! Well, sort of. The community is not in D.C., but in Alexandria. It’s massive, Rick. Maggie says it is bigger than Woodbury. They’ve blocked all roads in except one, and I’ve drawn you a map here. Hope to see you soon, man._

_Abraham, Glenn, Maggie, Eugene, Tara, Rosita, Noah._

Rick’s mouth was working in a huge grin. It was unbelievable. The note was even in seven different handwritings, so it was impossible to be faked.

“Rick?”

Rick blinked twice and looked down at Clementine. She was looking around a little lost, her forehead crinkled in a wrinkle.

“Rick, where’s everyone else? Wouldn’t they have left a note?”

Rick staggered, looking around, going so far as to flip over the cash register and peer under it, suddenly frantic. There was absolutely no way that if Daryl had made it here, he wouldn’t have left some kind of note or sign or something. They hadn’t been here.

_They hadn’t been here!_

Rick felt like he was going to vomit. _CarlandJudithandDaryl,_ no. No, it was _not_ possible. It was too cruel. Rick swept the cash register off the counter with a low curse, turning around so his back was to Clem. Rick kicked at the decrepit waiting room chair, sending it crashing through the building’s window with a furious, “ _Fuck_!” He clenched his fists so hard that his fingernails cut into his palms. He didn’t even care about the flare of pain from his bad shoulder. When Rick saw that Clem had bit her lip and stepped back out of his way, he couldn’t stand himself, but his throat was too choked up to get much out except a garbled “Sorry.” There was the familiar hissing groan, and Rick shut his eyes, feeling like an absolute idiot.

“S’ok. I ... I understand.” Clem’s voice was quiet. “Maybe they... went on to the other town? I mean... we missed Abraham’s other cities, maybe they missed this one?” She turned to look at the five walkers that had materialized behind her after Rick had tossed the chair through the window. It was like ringing the dinner bell in the fairly quiet town and he felt ashamed.

Rick froze for a second, spinning into action even as his mind started whirling. He only took out two to Clem’s three which was somewhat embarrassing, but he was willing enough to admit that he was under a bit of strain. Plus, Clem was just that good. “Come on. There’s nothing else for us here.” Rick followed Clem as she ran for their car, peeling out of the town just as more walkers started poking up out of the woodwork like macabre daisies.

Rick jerked the wheel with another curse, seeing bright starbursts of pain as he forced his bad arm into steering. He was on the road to Abraham’s last stop before he could blink, grimly staring straight ahead.

“Rick.. it’s okay. They probably just skipped this town.” Clem didn’t sound particularly sure of herself, but Rick wasn’t going to argue. They encountered a small pack of survivors, grimly making their way northwest. Rick slowed just long enough to make sure that it wasn’t any of his people before passing them by.

He forced himself to slow down as they approached the smallish town of Masonburg. This area was a lot more densely populated than Georgia had been, so the fact that Abraham had picked it for its relative smallness was helpful. Still, as soon as Rick saw the barrier at the town, Rick knew what he was going to find. Well, what he wasn’t going to find. He took his foot off the accelerator, not even noticing when the car rolled to a stop.

Daryl and Michonne would never have come here. He _had_ to believe that, Not to a place that had been destroyed like this. It was a dead place.

Rick had only heard about the government napalming Atlanta. He never saw the helicopters or smelled the smoke. Even when he’d gone back into Atlanta, and seen the walkers fused into the concrete, he’d not really connected what it must have been like to try to kill an entire city of people.

Whatever they’d done here had been lethal. Maybe it had been a quarantine in the early days, or a refugee camp gone bad. Now though, there were only burnt out husks of buildings sitting on huge piles of ash. When Rick had been a kid and learning about the Cuban Missile Crisis in school, they’d shown a film of the aftermath of a nuclear bomb on a residential area. The younger Rick had been kind of gleefully horrified because it was gross, and terrifying and there was no possible chance of it ever happening again. Now though, now those memories seemed brutally apt.

There was nothing. Rick could see things that might have at one time been tanks, or cars, but there was nothing identifiable in the mess that inhabited the road in front of the former town of Madisonburg.

Clem made a disgusted, gagging sound and Rick shifted his stunned gaze to what had caught her attention.

It was like out of a nightmare.

A sluggish, putrid mass of twisted, melted limbs and heads and torsos were slowly moving towards their car. Rick only saw teeth and sunken-in, decaying flesh getting closer as he sat there stupidly.

“Clem...” His voice wasn’t working right, but she heard and even understood, slamming the gear shift into reverse as Rick stomped on the gas pedal. They shot straight back and Rick jerked the wheel with one hand, sending gravel and ... other things... spraying up from their wheels as they drove away.

They were quiet for a good fifteen minutes before Rick pulled over, turning off the car and locking the doors on instinct as he started shaking. Clem was sniffing, her lower lip trembling. Rick lifted his bad arm and Clem clung to him, just as hard as he clung to her. They were too numb to cry. It just hurt too much. What was the point of all of this, of meeting back up with the people who had left them, if Carl, Judith, and god. Daryl... Rick had refused to let himself actually think the words, had kept a tiny spark of hope alive that there was some chance in fucking hell that they would all come through this together.

But they wouldn’t. They _couldn’t_. Rick had been hurt enough that Clem had said they were several weeks, maybe even a month behind. She hadn’t known the exact days, but Rick had had a beard, and it was obvious that whatever he had broken on his arm had started to knit together. He hadn’t thought much about it, had kept putting his health on hold until they met up with everyone, but there was a real possibility that Rick had fucked up his arm beyond saving. Either way, that had taken time.

His mind jumped from face to face as he had last seen them. Daryl had caught Judith, and the rest of their group had been further up the mountain. He had thought that maybe... just maybe the mudslide hadn’t taken that much, but given how much debris that had been in the water- here, Rick’s mind got a little fuzzy but he could remember bits and pieces- they might not have made it out. Rick just couldn’t conceive of any instance where Daryl and Michonne wouldn’t travel to find them.

Unless they were dead.

Rick heard Clem whispering “--fire. I should have lit a fire so they knew. I should have.” and shook his head, pulling back a little and trying to catch her eyes. Clem wouldn’t cooperate, clinging harder to Rick and hiding her face.

It felt like he couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t the despair he’d felt at hearing that Lori was dead, this was something much, much deeper; a numbness so dark that Rick wasn’t entirely sure that he would be able to claw his way out if he let it in. Clem. Clem was his priority and he needed to get her to safety. Abraham had mentioned the Alexandria Safe Zone. Rick had the map, and they still had gas in the car. Then... then. Whatever would happen would happen. Either he’d go crazy and they would put him out of his misery, or he’d survive somehow and find a way to accept this new reality.

It was dark by the time either one of them thought of moving. Even then it was just to crack the windows down for some air into the car. Clem had moved to the back seat and had stretched out, curled into the back so that she was facing the trunk. Occasionally, Rick could hear muffled sniffles, but he tried to ignore them as best he could. There wasn’t much that either of them could do for privacy, but he could let her mourn in peace. If she’d wanted his comfort, she would have stayed in the front seat with him.

The night passed slowly. Rick didn’t doze, but sat staring out of the window at nothing until he slowly started to realize that dawn was breaking. It was painfully reminiscent of his slight lapse of reality after Rick had taken out Joe’s throat. It had taken Daryl to bring him back that time, and it was just too painful to fully articulate that Daryl wouldn’t be there to bully him out of this numb blankness again.

Rick heard Clem stir, and they quietly took care of their morning routine. They shared a cold can of mixed fruit, that neither of them particularly wanted and Rick started the car, turning off towards the route indicated on the map that Abraham had provided him.

“Rick?”

Rick grunted, not quite up to conversation yet. His eyes felt like sandpaper, gritty and dry. He held the steering wheel with his knee and rubbed his eyes with his hand, yawning.

“I think we should go back.”

Rick jerked his exhausted gaze to her, shocked, then quickly turned his attention back to the road.

“I mean after we check out Alexandria and you get your arm healed up. We can go back to where we were. Or try to.”

“Retrace our steps from where Tyreese crashed?” Rick felt that tiny, sickening little flutter of hope again and ruthlessly strangled it.

“Yes. We don’t have to stay here at this new place if you don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Clem, are you crazy? If it’s as big of a community as Abraham thinks it is...”

“I don’t care!” Clem’s yell echoed around the small car. “This isn’t right! It’s not how it’s supposed to happen! You almost died! I almost died! Like three hundred times, and we made it this far and no. I want to go _see_.” Her chin jutted out mulishly. “I’ll go by myself if I have to, just you watch me.”

Rick blinked tears out of his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Come on, you can’t give up on them,” Clem whispered, glaring and crying at the same time.

Rick rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m hurt. They might not take me.”

Clem’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve got a duffel bag of drugs that says they will.”

Rick swallowed through a throat that felt swollen and sore. “You’re sure? This is what you want?”

Clem nodded. “You just gotta be sure, is all. Or you’ll always wonder. It won’t be easy, I know that. So we should rest up in this Alexandria place. See what it’s like. Then we can make a plan when we’re not so tired.”

Rick blinked. “I would prefer to have walls around me. I think I’m going to be dreaming of that... melted... thing whenever I close my eyes.”

Clem nodded, wiping her cheeks. She was dirty enough that the wetness from her tears was pretty obvious, leaving a cleaner track through the grime.

After all of that, putting the car into gear and continuing on their way to Alexandria seemed anti-climatic. When they got within broadcast distance, Rick turned on the radio, listening for someone speaking. It brought back a horrible memory of Terminus, but Rick suppressed it, concentrating on driving.

Even twenty miles out, there were signs that this place had been here awhile. Abraham’s note said that they had closed the roads of all ways in, and Rick cursed a few times as he found evidence of that. Signs were spraypainted onto the roads, saying to avoid DC at all costs. They didn’t give out information on Alexandria, but Rick knew enough to keep searching for a road that would take them in.

They had used an old interstate, which was damn smart. Rick stopped the car, gaping a little at what he saw. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but this place was a lot bigger than anything he expected. From the windshield, he and Clem could see a large fortress looking structure ahead of them. Between them and the structure was what could only be described as a dead zone. Someone, or several someones, had ripped up the concrete, so that only than two lanes of the eight lane road were accessible. They had strung several different types of fences around the perimeter, only they were much stronger than the prison’s defences had been. Rick could see people paroling around the fences, and more people patrolling the actual structure.

He was so overwhelmed for a moment that when the guy with the AK-47 tapped politely on his window, Rick damn near pissed himself in shock.

A low, deep voice with a New York accent rolled through the car’s interior. The man speaking was obviously former military, but he wasn’t aggressive, which to be honest was a little weird. “Hi. You can drive on in to the first checkpoint. You’ll be met there.” The man reminded Rick of Abraham. Rick nodded, observing that the man had bent at knee level to peer into the car. When he saw Clem, his entire demeanor changed, his shoulders straightening and looking almost like something interesting hd happened after a very long shift. He waved them on, and a little stunned, Rick and Clem put the car into gear. Through the rearview mirror, he could see that the man was speaking into a radio.

Closer to the structure, Rick could see that some serious work had gone into the defenses. It looked like a mix of concrete and sheet metal, smooth enough that no walkers could climb up. There was a trench around the actual perimeter, but Rick couldn’t see anything in it.

“Hi folks. We need you to step out of the vehicle please. Your guns will need to go with us for a bit, but don’t worry. You’ll get them back.” The two guards looked a little bored, but neither of them gave off any weird vibes. Well, not that Rick could tell anyway. He looked at Clem out of the corner of his eye and gave a little shrug.

She shrugged back.

Rick had expected this, but still, after Terminus it was hard to trust these people. “The girl stays with me.”

The man smiled for the first time, completely genuine. “Of course she does. And like I said, we just need the guns. Any other weapons you keep on your person, okay?”

Rick nodded warily, and stepped out of the car. He tried to put his hands up, but he winced when something in his shoulder rubbed together.

“Oh, hey. You don’t have to do that. Especially if you’re hurt. Here, Judy, take them to the infirmary, okay? They can do intake and debrief there just as well as the welcome room.”

Rick wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t dreaming. “Some friends of ours are here. Glenn and Maggie Rhee? Abraham...’ Rick blanked on Abraham’s name.

“Okay- look. I get it. You’re nervous and this is weird as shit. But, we have some protocols we have to follow. Before you freak out, yeah. You’re free to leave, but we do have medical personnel that can help you out. That looks like a really bad break. We just need you to trust us a little, okay?”

Rick stared at him, looking around at the few people who had shown up to escort them out of their car and into the building. All of them looked, well. Normal. Or whatever normal was nowadays.

“Alright,” Rick nodded at Clem, who moved to his bad side so that she would be able to defend him if things went bad. Rick reached into the car and slung the duffel over his good shoulder. He knew they’d need to check it at some point, but for now he wasn’t letting it out of his sight. Rick didn’t know who had taught this girl to be so smart about defense and taking care of herself, but he had to thank them. Without her, he’d be dead. Sure, a good bit of him felt like he was just going through the motions at this point, but for Clem he’d do it.

An older lady with her grey hair tied in a bun on top of her head flashed them a quick smile. She was wearing a white coat over her clothes, and wore a badge that said “Judy J.- Medical. “Come on. Let’s get a look at that arm.” They walked into a building that wasn’t inside the gates, but close enough that it was obviously part of a triage or waystation for travelers. Rick didn’t know. While the people here were cautious, they were clearly taking great pains to not scare anyone.

It all had a feeling of normalcy to it that Rick didn’t know how much he craved until just now.

“Here. You hop up on the bed, and you can stand by him, honey. Don’t worry. No one’s gonna try to separate you two--” Her voice hardened a little, looking full on at Clementine. “--unless you don’t _want_ to be with him?”

Clem was shaking her head before Judy had finished speaking. “No. He’s mine, and I’m his. We stay together.”

Rick’s stomach flipped. He felt the same way, but hearing it was still doing funny things to his heart strings.

Judy smiled, her faint wrinkles around her mouth thickening as she nodded. “Okay. That’s fine.” She looked at Rick. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve done to yourself.”

“He hurt it bad. And he was sick for a long time. Fever, coughing. He would cough up this gross green stuff, and sometimes a little blood. I gave him an antibiotic and it made him better, but I didn’t know what to do for his arm,” Clem blurted.

Judy’s eyebrows raised, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she helped Rick unbutton the shirt he was wearing, easing it off his shoulder. Rick hissed, and Judy gave him a sympathetic look, but continued.

“Mike, get the x-ray, please.”

Rick gaped at her. For the first time, he realized that there was honest-to-god electricity in the small room. Inwardly, he shook his head. His head really must not have been on straight for him to not notice the low hum of electricity. He looked up at the florescent lights like a moron who had never seen them before, feeling stupid.

He watched, bemused as Judy and Mike got a quick x-ray of his arm and shoulder. Clem looked like she was about to burst into giggles, but Rick just watched them move around the small room like it was prime time television, like this was happening to someone else.

“Yep. Dislocated for sure, and some of those ligaments might never fully heal. Looks like he snapped the ulna clean in two.” The man gave a low whistle. “That’s gonna suck when we pop it back into place. Clean break though.”

Judy turned to look at him. “Sir? Okay, so normally we’d wait to do this once you cleaned up, but we need to get that shoulder into place sooner rather than later. It’s gonna hurt and I’m afraid you’re not going to like me much. I’m going to have to ask you to have your girl hold your knife, please. Last guy stuck me on reflex and I’m for damn sure not having that again.”

Rick blinked. Her voice sounded like a record that was on the wrong speed. He didn’t move until Clem nudged him with her elbow. “Rick? You heard what they said, right?”

Rick nodded. He did. He just wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to come out of this weird, numbness. Nothing really hurt here. Here was safe.

Clem sighed and reached over, taking his knife and holding his hand. “I bet you can get cleaned up once they set the break. But let them do the shoulder first, okay?” She looked anxiously at Judy. “Right? He’s gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, kid. He is.” She stepped forward, nodding at Mike who helped Rick to lay down on the table. “You ever considered a job in the medical field? You've got the touch.”

Clem shrugged, not willing to commit to anything, but clearly pleased. Rick felt the man bracing him, holding him firmly on his chest and good shoulder, and before Rick could blink, there was a sharp, audible _click_ as Judy jerked his shoulder back into place.

Rick _screamed._

His gaze whited out for a moment, then he was fighting back, or trying to fight back, instinct and terror sending him uselessly flailing. Judy was leaning on him to keep him from moving, and Mike had braced his entire body weight to keep him in place, but Rick couldn’t keep still. He screamed so hard that his voice cracked, and he had no way of knowing if he was hurting himself more. Vaguely, he heard Clem saying his name, but Rick couldn’t stop.

He certainly wasn’t numb anymore.

Rick knew he had to stop, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t even from the pain of his shoulder. This was all the heartbreak he couldn’t voice last night. Sound exploded from his throat like water from a geyser. He bit his lip and felt blood flood his mouth as he tried to stop, to get ahold of himself.

There was a bang and another bang and the flurry of sound stopped.

“Dad?” A whisper of sound, shocked and trembling as though its owner couldn’t believe what they saw.

Rick was dreaming. He had to be dreaming, because what he was seeing wasn’t making any sense.

Judy had let go of him when Clem had grabbed for Rick’s good hand, and had stepped back out of his way staring at him with an uncomprehending look on her face. Mike still had his hands on Rick’s good shoulder and his chest, but he wasn’t exerting any pressure. Everyone was staring at the door. It had been kicked in and the knob hung uselessly. The door was being held open by a shocked, pale-faced Carl, who stared at Rick like a ghost.

“ _Dad_!”

Daryl stood behind Carl, staring at Rick with an utterly blank face. Rick’s heart was beating so crazily that he wasn’t entirely certain that he wasn’t going to have a heart attack. Rick swung his legs down from the bed and somehow Carl was just _there_ , wrapping his arms around Rick’s waist and clinging as hard as he could. Carl was shaking so hard he couldn’t talk, choked, half-twisted sounds falling from his mouth as he sobbed. Carl’s tears were hot against Rick’s chest and he could only hold Carl to him in reflex, still in shock.

Rick stood up and Carl refused to let go, managing to get ahold of himself slowly, so that he was just hiccuping little sobs against Rick’s ribs. He pulled back to wipe his face on his shirt then hung on a little tighter to Rick’s torso, clearly not going anywhere.

Rick thought his legs would give out on him before he could walk forward, but Daryl was striding towards him with a fierce glare on his face. He was just as pale as Carl had been. Rick didn’t know what expression was on his face, but he flinched back a little when Daryl only reached towards him, cupping the back of Rick’s neck and bringing their foreheads gently together, like they were each two pieces of a puzzle, coming together with a small, solidifying _click_.

Rick gulped something that sounded vaguely like Daryl’s name, breathing it almost silently in the still-quiet room. He couldn’t bear to let go of Carl, and his other hand wasn’t working quite right, and somehow Daryl understood, turning so that the hand not cupping the back of Rick’s neck was resting gently on Carl’s trembling shoulder, connecting the three of them together.

Rick was so afraid, so absolutely terrified that if he closed his eyes, he’d be back in the car, or worse, back in the stream and all of this would be a dream. Some distant part of him noted that Clem was practically pushing the two doctors out of the room, her small, no-nonsense face taking absolutely no shit from either of the adults as she hissed something about ‘privacy’ and ‘all that can wait ‘til later.’

Daryl’s voice when Rick finally heard it was low, gritty with emotion that he couldn’t seem to shed aside from the slightly desperate clutch of Rick’s neck, the clammy press of their foreheads together as they shared air, close enough to kiss.

“Took you fuckin’ long enough, man.” Daryl’s lips were so close to his that they almost touched.

Carl sniffed again, pulling away and slowly getting himself back in order. Rick took it as a sign to stop clutching at his son and let go, slowly, painfully slowly. He had to force each finger to move.

“I know. Couldn’t be helped,” Rick rasped back, trying to memorize every single thing on Daryl’s face, terrified that it would be snatched away from him again, just waiting for it to happen.

Carl took a step back and another, and Rick felt a completely unexpected push to the small of his back the same time Carl said, “You two are _such_ idiots. Just kiss, already!”

Rick fell forward but Daryl was there to catch him. Their lips did actually brush together for a second before Rick got his feet back under him, and they both turned to stare at Carl’s tear-streaked face.

“What? I get two Big Cats from Michonne if you guys kiss.” Carl sniffed again and shrugged at the looks on Rick and Daryl’s faces. “Oh come on. Neither of you are exactly subtle.”

“I ain’t kissin’ anyone for a show, kid.” Daryl jerked his chin towards the door. “Get.” Rick couldn’t help but notice that Daryl’s hand came back around the back of his neck like it belonged there.

Carl rolled his eyes so hard that Rick wasn't entirely sure that he hadn’t sprained something. “Dad, make sure to ask him about the livin’ situations here. I _guess_ I’ll give you two some privacy.” Carl sounded like he was granting some great concession, but Rick knew his son, knew that he was embarrassed enough at his breakdown to want to get the hell out of Dodge. Teasing his dad was just a bonus. Teasing Daryl was something like sighting Sasquatch riding a unicorn. That shit just didn’t happen very often.

“I love you, dad,” Carl threw back over his shoulder quickly, walking towards the door before Rick could respond. “Daryl, you take care of him, okay?” Rick knew that this was a poignant moment, but if Carl ever waggled his eyebrows at him like that again, Rick was gonna having him on Judith’s diaper duty until Carl was old and grey.

“Yeah,” Daryl didn’t sound very impressed. They both turned to watch Carl open the broken door, Rick lips twitching in a little smile as he saw Clem standing there, guarding the room from the onslaught of people waiting to get in through the door. She stood with her legs spread slightly and her arms crossed across her chest.

Rick didn’t even give Daryl time to pull away, to change his mind or anything. He yanked Daryl to him, sealing their lips together roughly, only to find Daryl doing the same to him. They were both so eager that they misaligned their lips, having to awkwardly readjust.

It should have been perfect. If this had been a movie, everything would have been. Rick wouldn’t have had a broken arm, throbbing now in counterpoint to his heart as he kissed Daryl. He wouldn’t be covered in Carl’s snot, and standing there sweaty, half-naked and completely filthy from not bathing in over a month. He would have brushed his teeth.

But when Daryl’s mouth slanted over his, his large, strong hands trembling, coming up to cup Rick’s face like Daryl needed that extra connection; that this was just as dreamlike and surreal for him as it was for Rick, he discovered that this was absolutely perfect, after all.

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TBC**!
> 
>  
> 
> *Slowly, cautiously pokes her head out of the bunker, then skips off to go watch the new episode!*


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy International Fanworks Day! You can participate [Here! ](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/2489)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : I ~~stole~~ borrowed pretty heavily from _The Stand_ in regards to how this community might work.

* * *

It was like living in an episode of The Andy Griffith Show.

Rick stretched his legs out, wiggling his bare toes, heels propped on the wooden porch and leaned the legs of his chair back just far enough that he could clean his gun without having to squint in the sun.

He could see the fields off in the distance. The park had brushed up against the Potomac, with higher end apartments on the facing and opposite end. Rick could see the crops were well underway, and he smiled a little sadly, remembering Hershel.

The bottle of gun oil rested on the porch’s rail, and a cold glass of ice tea sat sweating in the late-afternoon sun, beads of condensation slowly dripping onto the wood. There was a scream of giggles from the yard and Rick looked over on instinct. Clem and Carl had one hell of a game of tag going on. Carol and Tyreese were playing, as were two other people Rick didn’t know, but were related to the kids that Clem and Carl were watching. The two had become the de facto babysitters of their little neighborhood, There were two other little girls just starting to walk, and a boy of about five that was ornery as hell that kept both teenagers on their toes.

“Shit’s weird as shit,” Daryl’s low voice appeared from just behind Rick’s shoulder and he turned with a little smile. Daryl had gotten so adept at walking quietly that his boots hadn’t even made a sound on the wood. Daryl stood in the doorway with both of his arms raised up on the top of the door frame, so that he could lean forward a little, muscles in his arms tensing. Rick tried to tell himself it didn’t make his mouth dry.

He would be lying.

“That’s a lot of shit,” Rick made a face, then reached out for his tea. It didn’t have any sugar in it, and before all this Rick pretty much figured that was a crime against damn humanity to drink tea that wasn’t sweet, but now it tasted incredible. “You gonna sit?”

Daryl nodded and Rick offered him his tea. Daryl’s smile turned slightly brighter and he sat in the chair near Rick’s looking out into the yard and watching the kids play.

“I can’t believe we’ve been here two weeks,” Rick put the gun brush to the side, and started buffing everything with the cloth.

Daryl’s face darkened as it usually did when Rick brought up their separation.

For such a big place, there weren’t many people. Part of that was the world they lived in, but part was due to a sickness that had spread due to such close quarters. Once people on the inside had started dying and rising, things had apparently gotten hairy, and the community, called the Alexandria Safe Zone, or the ASZ (pronounced to Carl’s absolute delight ‘Ass is’) had slowly started to come back.

That was when Daryl and his group showed up. Oh, Daryl had refused to talk about the details, but Carl, and later Michonne, had told Rick that they had gotten to ASZ about two weeks before Rick and Clem had. That two weeks had been harrowing for all of the little group. They had all seen the mud take Rick and Clem, but there had been no trace of either of them, and Daryl, Carl, Michonne, Carol, Tyreese and Sasha had all believed them to be dead.

Daryl had been in a very bad place, but neither Carl or Michonne would give Rick details, saying instead that that was Daryl’s place to share.

Daryl hadn’t shared.

Daryl wasn’t exactly what one would call the sharing type, which okay, yeah. Rick got that. The problem was that neither was he, so the two of them had just sort of existed in this weird stasis since Carl had kicked in the door when he heard Rick screaming.

When Daryl and everyone had arrived, there had been no resistance to them showing up. Rick figured it was due to simple numbers; the ASZ had lost a number of people in the not-too distant past, and Daryl and the fairly large group must have seemed like a Godsend. Between Abraham vouching for them, they had gotten in with no problems. Rick got that. In this day and age, you needed numbers if you were going to survive. The problem was, Rick was beginning to get the feeling that there was something going on here that was a bit off.

The ASZ was under new management. Rick hadn’t been up to ferreting out all the details yet, but someone named Davidson had recently died, and a man named Monroe was their leader. Rick’s long-dormant cop senses were starting to tingle in the way that he’d ignored for much too long. Since the outbreak, Rick had learned that if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. He’d come by that lesson honestly, and with a lot of pain.

“Yeah. How’s your arm?” Daryl didn’t meet his eyes, but drank the rest of his tea.

That was another thing. Daryl, aside from the panicked, passionate, relieved kiss in the triage area, had hardly shown anything towards him aside from very mild and low-key affection. Rick was making a mental list of shit to talk about, and that was at the top of it. Daryl never pushed him away when Rick initiated a kiss, but he rarely kissed Rick, even in private.

“It’s okay. The break is gonna be fine, but my shoulder is still a bit fucked up. Either torn or strained ligaments, but that surgery isn’t quite on their ‘immediate and necessary’ list, so I’ll have to let it heal naturally.”

“So you’ll be in that thing for another what, three months?”

“Roughly.” Rick raised his arm. With the sling, even with the weight of the plaster cast, he could use his shoulder with very little strain. “But see, I can move it.”

Daryl snorted and leaned forward, tapping on the end of the knife that stuck out of the cast. “You’re gonna cut your damn arm off.”

Rick grinned. “Nah. Michonne fixed it for me. There’s a sheath.”

“Nice,” Daryl smiled slightly back. “So.” He cleared his throat. “Are you free tonight? They ain’t got you on duty or nothin’, right?”

Rick had been on modified medical leave, sent to the kitchens to help sort and prepare food. One-handed, it took forever. Still, Daryl had asked for a reason, and Rick tried not to get his hopes up when he responded in the negative. “No. Have tonight off.”

“I uh.” Daryl actually stopped to clear his throat. “I asked if Carol and Ty would take the kids tonight. I thought we could, maybe... eat. Or somethin’.”

Rick blinked twice, trying to contain the absolutely goofy grin that he was certain was spreading across his face. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he said quietly.

Daryl knocked back the rest of Rick’s tea, but Rick could see that the other man was smiling behind the plastic glass.

“You gonna tell me when we became brothers?” Rick must have surprised Daryl with his question, because he choked on the last drink of tea.

“Brothers?! The hell you talkin’ about?”

Rick nodded towards Carl and Judith, hiding a grin. “Well, you know... when you got here?”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he slowly brought down the plastic glass. “I already explained this. I told them my name was Daryl Grimes so’s they wouldn’t try to take Carl ‘n’ Asskicker away. I wasn’t gonna take the chance so I just...” He shrugged. “But brothers _definitely_ aint’ what I was... I mean, that’s not the _only_ reason someone takes someone else’s...oh you motherfucker.” Daryl punched him on his good shoulder. Hard. “You’re fuckin’ with me!”

Rick snorted, trying not to laugh outright. “Yeah well.... you had it comin’. So I’ll see you in a few hours then?”

“Yeah. Asshole.”

* * *

Rick had felt a little awkward when Carl had solemnly presented him with the box of condoms, but as a gesture of support there was pretty much no room for misinterpretation. It had been utterly adorable that Clem obviously had no idea what condoms were or what they were for.

Tyreese and Carol had stayed for dinner, and Sasha and Michonne had come by mostly to tease Rick to death. Rick hadn’t eaten, unsure what Daryl had planned. There wasn’t a polite way to ask them all to get the fuck out, but he was pretty sure they got the idea by the way they were moving so goddamn slowly. Hell, glaciers would form and melt in the time it took them to make it two doors down.

Due to the illness that had hit the ASZ so hard, they hadn’t had much of a problem of finding space together. Abraham had staked out an old house that he, Rosita, Glenn and Maggie shared. Across the street was a duplex, split on both sides by Eugene and Tara, and Noah had the other half to himself. A few houses down Tyreese, Sasha and Carol and Michonne shared a small house. Daryl had set up shop a little further away with Carl and Judith all sharing with only one bedroom. The house was extremely small, shoved into the block almost like an afterthought. Once Rick and Clem had arrived, Daryl and Glenn had wasted no time in converting the attic into living space, with an open area in the middle that Carl and Rick shared. Clem and Judith had moved to the small bedroom, and Daryl currently slept on the couch in the living room.

“Rick, can we talk to you for a second?” Carol sounded suspiciously sweet as she took a step forward, Michonne following a half a step behind her.

“Ah. I’ll uh, just move on. Come on, kids. They’re playing _Cars_ in the playhouse tonight!” Tyreese’s voice made it clear he was ready to split. Rick smiled at the way Carl tried not to show how excited he was to be watching a movie that he’d seen twelve hundred times before the outbreak, but Rick figured that the novelty of watching an actual movie would get him over any lingering weirdness at being probably the oldest kid there. Tyreese left, shooting Rick a ‘sorry, man’ look over his shoulder.

Rick looked from Michonne’s brown eyes to Carol’s blue gaze. He supposed he should be grateful that they had waited until the kids left.

Rick refused to back up, but the instinct was definitely there. For all that Michonne was physically petite, her presence towered over him like a particularly disgruntled giant.

“Make sure you use all your words,” she said, with a serious look on her face.

“--And make sure he uses his.”

“Make sure you use a lot of lube.”

“--And wait. Do you know how gay sex works?”

Rick gritted his teeth, trying for a smile. “I got it. Or we’ll figure it out.” He looked at Michonne. “And I shaved, so thanks for that,” then peered at Carol. “And I appreciate the new jeans and shirt.” Nothing was really new anymore, but they fit him much better than the old ones had done. “Now, I know y’all are tryin’ to help, but seriously. Leave us be.”

Michonne’s eyes narrowed. “Leave you be? To do what? Dance around each other for another month? Two?”

Carol put a steadying hand on her arm. “It was painful to watch, Rick. And after...”

Rick nodded, holding up one hand, trying to understand how his and Daryl’s romance (if it could be called that) must have looked from the perspective of the two women that knew them best. Painful would be one word for it.

Clusterfuck would be another.

He nodded, again, smiling. “I know. Now I gotta go, or I’ll be late.”

Michonne _tsked_ and Carol made a shooing motion, her blue eyes alight with mischief. “Okay then. We won’t wait up for you.”

Rick blushed in spite of himself, checked that he had ammo and his knife as was his habit, and left, shutting the door behind him, ignoring the smirks from the two women.

God knew he loved all of them, but his family were kind of total assholes.

Rick walked down the dark street, still kind of creeped out from the fact that there were lights on some of the street corners. Not very many, but enough that it jarred him each time he saw it, like his brain did not quite accept what his eyes were seeing.

Daryl wanted to meet him at what passed for their common area, near the job board. It worked somewhat like a cafeteria line, with available food based on the amount of work you had done. There was no need for money anymore, so the ASZ worked mainly on a trading system. You were expected to work for access to your power. There were always jobs around town, and as the population had been recently decimated, the need for workers to keep everyone safe, as well as do the work around the small community was pretty dire. Enough that even though Rick was on medical leave, he had been asked to work on light duty.

Rick wasn’t sure how he would have organized it, but every job imaginable was available, from guard detail to gardening. Some of them were specialized, meaning that based on a certain skill set, certain people only did that one thing. People like Judy and Mike, who worked medical for instance, generally _only_ worked medical. They weren’t expected to do anything else unless they wanted to.

Rick saw Daryl leaning against the job board, and couldn’t help his smile, especially when Daryl actually leaned in to kiss him like he hadn’t actually thought about what he was doing before it happened. It was a short, sweet kiss that lasted all of a half a second, but set Rick’s heart to pounding in his chest with anticipation.

“Hey.” Rick thought that he probably looked foolish grinning through a quick smooch like that, but given that Daryl was returning the smile, albeit slightly less obviously and a little more smirk-y, he figured he wasn’t gonna be called on it.

“Hi. You ready?”

“Yeah.” Daryl jerked his head to the side, and Rick noticed for the first time that he was carrying a small backpack, with a cartoon character on the front pocket that Rick was pree-eetty sure was Dora the Explorer.

When Rick raised his eyebrows in the low light, Daryl glared and muttered “Carol” in a way that spoke volumes.

Rick nodded. “Yeah. They ambushed me earlier.”

Daryl gave a sort of ‘what can ya do’ shrug and started walking. Rick fell into step beside him, just enjoying the quiet night and the fact that he was as safe that could be expected. After the fall of the prison, it was a novelty, one that he wasn’t entirely sure he trusted.

They left the common area and circled the first block, nodding at the occasional stranger they met. Rick couldn’t help but feel a nervous anticipation as they wandered aimlessly around the small community. It was four blocks in all, much smaller than it had looked from Rick’s initial, slightly delirious sight of the gates to the place. The gardens took up a good bit of space, but they were off-limits at night time, with most of the greenhouses locked up tightly. Rick was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice that Daryl had stopped walking, stopping in front of a house, set back fairly far on a small lawn.

“I. Uh, I found this place.” Daryl had to clear his throat and start again. It struck Rick then that Daryl was just as nervous as Rick was and the strange thought calmed him down. It might be dumb, but it helped to realize that it wasn’t just him feeling the awkwardness of their... separation. Daryl crossed over to the side, unlocking a wooden gate and swinging it wide. In the moonlit night, Rick could see the outline of shapes in the distance and tensed, until he saw Daryl walk blithely forward. Daryl fumbled at his waist for a minute and unearthed a camping lantern, turning on the gas with a quick, shy smile. “Go on. Take a look.”

Rick took the lantern with his good hand and raised it. The backyard was very small. It had been fenced in at one point, but the fence had been trampled by something in the back corner, giving it a slightly haphazard look. There was a jungle gym in the middle, complete with slides, swings, and a little sandbox. It was so incongruous with everything they’d seen so far that it hit Rick like a punch to the gut; this was a home. Daryl had found him a home for the kids, someplace that they could grow up and have a chance at growing up with some of the old-world normalcy that they had all taken for granted. Rick lowered the lantern onto the neat garden path, turning look at where Daryl stood, blinking slowly and completely stunned.

“I ah,” Daryl ran a hand through his long hair, clearly nervous. The light from the lantern cast most of his face in shadow. “I hoped you’d move in here with me. That you all would. There are three bedrooms. Clem and Judith would have to share for a bit, but I didn’t think they’d mind all that mu _hmmmmph_.”

Rick didn’t quite know how it happened. One second Daryl was babbling, and the second they were kissing, Rick pressing Daryl into the bricks of the house, licking into Daryl’s mouth, with his good arm bracing his weight against the house, with his palm near Daryl’s head. Daryl caught him with a startled grunt, his arms coming across Rick’s waist with clutching intensity, like he’d been waiting for just such a moment, but unsure when to take it. Rick kept the kiss a little harder, titling his head a little and taking full advantage of the fact that neither one of them had to stretch to get at each other’s mouth. Rick felt Daryl shiver slightly at the abrasion of the stubble on his cheek and took full advantage, kissing his way to Daryl’s jaw when they needed to stop for oxygen, biting a little at the sensitive spot on Daryl’s neck, just under his jaw.

“ _Christ._ ” Daryl groaned, his arms loosening around Rick’s waist as Rick kissed him, moving his mouth back to Daryl’s lips. Daryl kissed him back, almost tentatively and Rick delighted in the fact that he was in complete control of this, that Daryl was utterly overwhelmed by Rick. Rick slotted their bodies even closer, stepping forward so that his leg was between Daryl’s, their moans mingling together when Daryl thrust his hips a little so that his cock rubbed against Rick’s hip.

Daryl’s head hit the wall of the house with a muffled _thud_ , and it took Rick a second to realize that instead of pulling him closer, Daryl was using his belt loops to put some space between them. Rick stopped, startled, moving where Daryl wanted him and Daryl kissed him almost in apology, slowing down the frantic kiss to something much sweeter, then pulling back and staring at Rick with a slightly abashed grin. “I. I don’t want to forget what I was gonna tell ya. If we keep that up, I won’t be able to remember my own damn name.”

“Oh.” Rick took a step back, but Daryl wouldn’t let him go too far, moving with him so that they were standing more or less naturally, with no one pressed up against any convenient surface. As long as they both ignored the fact that they were hard, it would be like any other of the eight hundred conversations they’d had, standing just as much in each other’s space as they were now.

“Come on. Let’s go inside.” Daryl bent to scoop up the lamp.

Rick took one last glance at the playground before nodding, following Daryl as he walked into the house and shut the door behind him.

The front room of the house was completely empty, aside from a table and two mismatched chairs.

“I thought you might want to have Carl and Clem furnish it.”

“Was it empty when you got it?”

“No. Eugene and Noah have been on furniture detail, reclaiming stuff that belonged to the people that were here before us. It’s all in the community center with the rest.”

Rick nodded. “It must have been bad, whatever happened here.”

“Yeah. Carlos- the guy I usually have guard detail with. Asshole won’t shut the fuck up about damn near anything, but he was good for getting a lot of information about the old group. Abraham filled me in on the rest.” Daryl gestured to the table and Rick looked around, feeling a bit like all of this was happening to someone else. “I just have a few things to set up, so why don’t you go on a tour if you want. We ain’t authorized to use power ‘til we move in officially, and mark it on the census, so take a candle with you.”

“Right. Michonne told me about the community furnishings pile, but I haven’t built up a status enough yet to get stuff. I’m impressed that you did.”

Daryl snorted. “Yeah, well I’ve spent the last two weeks getting this situated.” He crossed into the kitchen and started getting things out of the backpack. “And before that-- I ah. Kept myself busy.”

Rick winced, imagining Daryl working himself to exhaustion, being in three places at once and racking up favors in the community. “This candle here?” There was a fairly large one on the table and lit it, turning back towards Daryl.

“Yeah. Ain’t much to see, but you go on.”

Rick did, understanding, and more than a little pleased that Daryl wanted to make a fuss and get things set just right for their date. The house had a master bedroom in the back and a staircase, so Rick opted to take the staircase first and look at the top rooms first. It was about as he expected.

Daryl had kept the bunk beds in what had been a kids room, and could easily imagine Judith happy here. There was space for a crib, and Clem still had her own space. They had been so used to living on top of one another with so few belongings, that it was a little weird to be thinking of space enough for books and toys, and other things that weren’t centered around survival. He turned to look closer at the pillow on the top bunk and swallowed hard when he saw that Clem’s ballcap, the one she’d given to Judith just before they fell, sat on the pillow. Rick cleared his throat and turned back towards the door across from the beds.

There was a bathroom in sort of a sweetheart style so that each bedroom had access with their own door. The bathroom was fairly large and had a small space for linens on a built-in shelf near the shower. Rick crossed through to the other bedroom and smiled. Daryl had kept the bed here too, but had put the pictures that Carl had kept of Rick and Lori here, set up in a little frame on the bedside table. There was also a wicked-looking serrated army knife, complete with a leather grip sitting in a sheath. Rick wasn’t sure if he was more affected by the fact that Daryl had done his damndest to keep Carl from forgetting his mom, or by the fact that he had found or traded for a weapon for Carl to keep himself safe in this fucked up world they now lived in.

Seeing Lori and himself smiling at the camera, with Carl’s shy, gape-toothed smile beaming between his parents was... well, it wasn’t as hard as Rick thought it would be. Both he and Lori had made their share of mistakes, hell, Lori’s _mistakes_ had mistakes, but even with everything, Rick found it hard to be mad at his former wife. It wasn’t like he had been perfect either. More than anything, Lori had wanted Rick and Carl to be people who weren't broken, tough and clever to survive in this crazy existence, but still a good. Both Rick and his son might have forgotten a few times, but in the end they were both what Lori wanted for them. Carl especially. God, she would be so proud of her boy.

And, Rick knew he was probably looking at this with a rather large streak of self-interest, but he liked to think that Lori would approve of Rick taking the chance to be happy with Daryl. Rick looked down at his wedding ring and for the first time in a very long time, looking at it and remembering his life with Lori didn’t leave him feeling disgusted with himself or so sick with guilt that he couldn’t move. The ring had been on his left hand so long that it was just part of the landscape. Like its owner, it had become a little rougher around the edges. The simple gold band was scratched and had a small ding in it, but otherwise was fine, if a little loose on RIck’s ring finger. Rick bit his lip and twisted at the ring with the fingers of his broken arm, wincing a little at the tingle in his right hand as he had to twist it off. It slid off and sat sitting in the palm of his hand, glinting in the candlelight. Rick exhaled a little roughly and shoved it into his jeans pocket. Maybe Carl would want it later, but right now he needed to put it away. Rick’s finger was marked with a clear indentation of a ring, the skin under it a pale, smoothly white.

Shit. At this rate he was going to be crying before he got back downstairs. Rick took a deep breath and shook it off, brushing his fingers over Lori’s face for just a second before turning and heading back downstairs.

The fact that Daryl had saved both of them- Rick when he’d been so lost after the prison, and keeping Carl and Judith safe when they were travelling across the country- was not lost on him.

Rick walked down the stairs and made his way to the back of the house. The master bedroom was dominated by what was pretty much the biggest bed Rick had ever seen. It could have easily slept three adults comfortably. The previous owners had probably had it covered in pillows and those goofy little frufru things (It had driven Rick bugshit, because Lori had insisted on having them for the _ambiance_ but they couldn’t be slept on, and had to be removed before they slept and replaced after they made the bed each morning.), but Daryl had made the bed with a very simple quilt and two large pillows. There were candles on both of the end tables, and to Rick’s shock, a crossbow stood near the right side of the bed- the same side Daryl had claimed way back in that apartment in Atlanta.

Rick heard Daryl’s step behind him and turned, still feeling like he’d seen a ghost.

“Yeah, I know. It was a bitch not tellin’ you. Glenn and Maggie found it for me.” Daryl itched at his head, tilting it a little to the left. “I think they was apologizin’ or somethin’. They couldn’t believe I lost my other one.”

“Jesus. I didn’t think...”

Daryl laughed. “Tell me about it. Twenty bolts, too. Not the exact same model as my other one, and the weight’s a little different, but it was like existin’ without my goddamn arm. I’m glad to have it back. Now, as much as I like seein’ you here, Carol made me promise to talk before...” Daryl trailed off, as though just now realizing what he had said.

“Before you fuck me.” Rick kept his voice mild, like he was pointing out that it was raining or the sky was blue or something, completely enjoying the way Daryl actually tripped over his own two feet before catching himself with a little stagger against the wall of the living room. Daryl turned and stared at him with wide eyes, his mouth open a little in shock.

Rick sat down at the dining chair, adjusting his sling a little so it didn’t rub at the bare skin of his neck, a beatific smile on his face.

Daryl cleared his throat and utterly failed at surreptitiously adjusting himself, huffing out an annoyed breath and turning to go into the kitchen. “Okay, it ain’t exactly a feast, but I think you’ll be happy.”

Rick hid his grin with his hand, instead lighting the other candles with his so that they had more than just the one for light.

Daryl came back with an honest-to-goodness tray and set it down on the table. There was a fourth of a bottle of bourbon, two mismatched glasses with ice, a tray of something meaty, and what looked like tomatoes and a cucumber cut up on a plate. There was also....

“Are those _cupcakes_?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy.” Daryl sat down. He offered one of the cupcakes to Rick who unapologetically wolfed it down. It was a little heavy and not cloyingly sweet, but it tasted like heaven. Daryl ignored his and sat smiling a little, watching Rick eat.

Rick wiped some of the crumbs off his face and licked at a bit of icing he’d missed. The damn thing even had the little paper cup thingy.

“Look, my plan here was just to feed you up some, while I talk. I’d figured out some shit a little late, and well...” Daryl huffed out an impatient breath. “I’m shit at this sort of thing, but Carol’s right. We got to talk or one of us is gonna fuck this up, and.”

Rick looked up, meeting Daryl’s gaze steadily.

“I really don’t want to fuck this up, Rick.”

Rick nodded. “That’s what the alcohol’s for, then?”

“Damn straight.” Daryl poured them both a bit and they clinked glasses. Daryl shot his back in one gulp and took another to sip more slowly. Rick gave him some time to gather his thoughts, and halved the meat and fresh veggies, starting slowly.

“Yeah. Well, first off all, I’m so goddamn _sorry_. I went about this all wrong. I should have just told you that it was you I wanted way back in that cabin. In the woods, in the rain, when you didn’t want to kiss me, I ... I guess I let that bug me more than it should have.”

_Wait. What?_

“Then you didn’t want to look at me when we got off together, and you were sayin’ Lori’s name and I just let it bug me more th--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rick’s voice was harsher than he meant it to be, but Daryl’s words were not making one iota of sense. “In the woods- you think that I didn’t _want_ to kiss you?”

Daryl paused, his eyes narrowing, setting down the slice of cucumber he’d been sort of half-nibbling in between sentences. “You ran off in the woods to jerk off. I followed you and you could barely stand to have my hands on ya. You even said it wasn’t nothin’ serious.”

Rick gave Daryl a confused look, going back over the events of that night in his mind. “ _You_ said it didn’t have to mean nothin’!”

“Rick. You said it first. I said that after you, agreein’ with ya. I wanted you so much that I would have agreed to anything you said.”

Rick blinked. “But. But that’s why I said it. ‘Cuz you were with Carol and I didn’t think. I mean, I didn’t know why you were with me when you had just found her again and--”

“Stop.” Daryl held up his hand, looking horrified. “you thought _what_ now?”

Rick grabbed his drink and drained it, crunching the ice as he thought furiously. He was so worked up that he didn’t even notice the burn of the alcohol as he shot down his throat. “After Terminus. You’d just found Carol again. You guys were.. well. I thought you were just... shit. That you wanted to hide it. Hide _me._ Especially after when we didn’t talk about it after, I thought you were back with Carol and I didn’t. Uh. I wanted you guys to be happy so I didn’t say anything. I just thought that was a one time thing. I didn’t kiss you because I always thought that was what lovers did. People in love, I mean.” Rick was aware that he was butchering this, if the way Daryl was staring at him was any indication. “And we weren’t... like that. So I didn’t kiss you.” Rick realized that he was repeating himself and shut up. Then the rest of what Daryl said hit him and he gasped, shocked. “What do you mean? About me not wanting to.” Rick stood up, pushing away from the table, pacing around the mostly empty room. He was filled with nervous energy and couldn’t sit still. Rick gave his head a little shake and forced himself to continue. “Look, I didn’t know that I needed to say this cuz it’s fuckin’ embarrassing okay? I didn’t want to be.. shitty at this.” Rick used his hand to gesture towards Daryl. “I said it already and I guess you didn’t get it, but the only other person I’ve ever been with was Lori. That’s it. Not dating, or cheatin’ or none of that. I thought you liked that position when we woke up to it, and went back to it because I could.” Rick tightened his lips and made a crude gesture with his fist, then forced himself to just say it. “I could jerk you off ‘cuz it was normal. Like I touch myself.”

Daryl sat with his hands clenched white-knuckled on the table, his face pale in the candlelight.

Rick went on, feeling sick that Daryl had been thinking this, believing that somehow he wasn’t good enough. “I”m sorry about what I said. I don’t know why the hell my... I mean, I was asleep and..”

“Shut up.”

Rick jerked his gaze to Daryl’s- shocked.  
Daryl winced and held out his hand. “I mean, no. You don’t gotta apologize for what you were dreamin’ about, Rick, Jesus. I just thought. I mean. I had it in my head that... fuck.”

Rick took a tentative step forward. “Shit. Carol and Michonne are never gonna let us live this down.” He sat with a small smile.

“Yeah, no shit.” Daryl poured both of them the last of the bourbon. Rick started eating again. Daryl did too and they both waited a few minutes, ignoring the awkward silence. Finally, Daryl cleared away the detritus of their meal and they sat there with the lone cupcake and two bourbons.

Rick reached over and caught one of Daryl’s hands in answer, and Daryl’s whole body relaxed. Daryl started speaking quietly, his accent thick enough for Rick to wrap himself in it.

“I’ve been in love with you since before the prison fell. One day you came back from a run with a pack of smokes and you were so damn prouda yerself that boom! That was it. Stalest damn things you’d ever imagine but I smoked every goddamn one of ‘em. Hershel teased me like you would not believe. I didn’t know if that man was an old country vet or a damn yenta matchmaker. Hell, he was probably just glad I wasn’t lookin’ at his little girl, but you would not believe the things that man said. When you caught up with me after Beth was taken, I’d never been so fuckin happy and so terrified at the same time. Joe was bad news. I knew it, but didn’t much care, ‘cuz you was there. After Terminus, when Carol saved us, she knew. She knew as soon as she saw me and broke off our...” He waved his hand around. “Wasn’t nothin’ for either of us and it was no big deal. But then I had no reason not to try to somehow convince you- this recently widowed, very straight former cop with two kids that somehow dicks were awesome. Mine in particular.”

Daryl turned Rick’s hand over in his, freezing in place when he saw the mark from Rick’s wedding ring.

Rick spoke just as quietly, his heart thudding in his chest. “I thought about you all the time. Once I woke up, that was everything- getting back to you and to my kids. Clem and I pushed it pretty hard, convinced that you would have checked in at one of the stops Abraham had marked. But you weren’t there. None of you were. I’d been forcing it out of my head, the possibility that y’all wouldn’t be there. Refused to think about it much. Just accepted that you would be and we’d all finally be back together. But you weren’t.” Rick couldn’t help but blink a little quickly. Thinking that they were all dead had been brutally painful, and even knowing it now to be false didn’t make that first, initial shock any less agonizing.

“No. We saw you guys go over. We all thought you was dead. No reason to check in at Abraham’s stops, once we saw where he was goin’. Caught up with his trail in South Carolina, and just went north. We met up with Maggie on a patrol about twenty miles out from this place and just about had a fuckin’ heart attack when she came screaming at me through the woods. She ‘n’ Glenn were _devastated_ when you weren’t with us. They all were. Actin’ guilty ‘n shit.” Daryl sighed and started tracing Rick’s fingers with his own, rough calloused touch.

“How’d you get there? I mean, how’d you two know it was me and Clem on the wall?”

“Dumb luck. “Carl and I were on pit detail and saw you drive in. Well, we saw the car. Almost fell off the damn wall in a goddamn swoon when I saw Clem get out of the car, then you follow her. Carl just turned and dropped his rifle, running like his ass was on fire and I was about three steps behind him. We heard you screamin, and he broke in that door like a fuckin’ SWAT team and that was that.”

“So now what?”

Daryl actually smiled. “Well, my plan was to apologize, to feed you up some, and hopefully I wouldn’t fuck up tellin’ you that this--” He jerked his head towards the kitchen, obviously meaning the house that he’d set up for them all “-- this was it for me. Maybe have you tell me that there was a chance you can love me back. It’s more’n I ever thought I deserved but god, I want it. This place can be good for us. For everyone.” Daryl shrugged, obviously a little overwhelmed, and a tiny bit embarrassed at how much he’d already said.

Rick started to say it back, but before he could, Daryl stood up and leaned forward so that they could rest their foreheads together in that same, intimate gesture of neediness they’d shared when they first found each other again. Rick brought his hand up to Daryl’s wrist and just rested there for a moment, feeling a little less raw after just breathing together, feeling Daryl’s steady pulse under the thin skin.

“You don’t gotta say nothin’.” Daryl shrugged with a little quirk of his lips that made Rick decide right then that he wanted to see every day of the rest of his life.

“Why not?” Rick was honestly a little baffled. Lori had expected him to say ‘I love you’ in return every time she did. It had gotten to be such a habit for the both of them that the words didn’t always mean what they did at the beginning. It was just a rote response, like saying ‘bless you’ after someone sneezed. It wasn’t that Rick didn’t want to say them, but he was still a little nervous. Clearing the air with Daryl didn’t change the fact that it would sound forced, or just... weird if told Daryl how he felt now, especially after everything they’d just said to each other.

Daryl kissed him then, brushing their lips together. Daryl tasted like bourbon and chocolate, and they both lost themselves a little in the kiss, and in the next, and the one after until they were pressed against the kitchen counter, drawing apart slowly. When Daryl started to speak, Rick’s heart gave a funny sort of flip. He sounded so goddamn happy that it made Rick’s heart hurt just to listen to him.

“‘Cuz you kissed me _back_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Happy early posting day. If anyone feels the need to discuss last week's episode, feel free to do so either in the comments or drop me an ask. I won't bite. :D
> 
> On an aside, do you know how hard it is to write Daryl Dixon fluff and keep it remotely in character? I'm not entirely sure I managed, but ... I tried. Feel free to pick it apart if you have suggestions.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **AN** : [Cheesy porn music plays intensely in the background.] Mind the rating, folks!

Rick broke away from the kiss with a muffled gasp. They’d gone from the kitchen to the back of the house without mauling each other- there was just no sexy way to take off boots and socks without hopping awkwardly in one place- to slowly watching each other as they took off shirts and divested themselves of weapons. Daryl stopped for a second to take care of the candles- keeping just one candle for light, and tilted the blinds so that the moonlight shined into the dark room. 

Rick paused when Daryl took off his t-shirt and vest, staring unabashedly at the way Daryl's body was outlined in the moonlight. He had only a light dusting of chest hair, and his jeans hung low enough on his hips that Rick could see the darker swirl of hair below his navel disappear into his jeans. It made his mouth water, and Rick couldn’t wait to explore. He’d not been able to do that yet and he wanted to...

Well, he just wanted.

He watched as Daryl unbutton and unzipped his jeans, kicking them off and knee-walking across the ridiculously huge bed towards Rick. Even in the sparsely lit room, Rick could see the thick outline of Daryl’s cock caught behind his underwear, the jersey material cupping the balls and shaft, the tip having already made the material wet. Rick paused, staring. 

He didn’t realize he was licking his lips until Daryl brushed his fingers against the buttons of his shirt. Rick jumped a little and Daryl laughed lowly, tilting his head back for another kiss. Rick bent a little, resting his thighs on side of the mattress. This kiss was a slick, filthy slide of tongues. 

Having such a bed nowadays was like telling the world to fuck off, given that they had, prior to this, thought camping with an actual blanket was the height of luxury. Rick figured he would be allowed to enjoy the comfort while it lasted. Rick grinned back at Daryl with a quick flash of teeth and slowly looped off his sling, wincing when his shoulder twinged. It only hurt for a second, and nothing like before they’d popped it back into place, but it was enough that it wiped the grin off Daryl’s face in a heartbeat. 

“Hey. None of that, now. I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” Daryl obviously didn’t agree and was still frowning a bit as he set to working on the buttons of Rick’s shirt. Rick helped him and they gently eased it off his arm, only to stop at the sheath shoved into the cast. Daryl snorted, but didn’t say anything as he set it on the bedside table. 

Rick took the opportunity to take his shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it back over his shoulder. He wasted no time in kicking off his jeans and underwear, almost falling over on his face when Daryl casually reached out to wrap his hand around the shaft of Rick’s cock, squeezing once before trailing his hand over Rick’s hip, and around to his ass. Rick knelt on the mattress with one knee, pushing Daryl onto his back and using his good arm to prop himself up. 

Rick hadn’t exactly planned out what he wanted to do to Daryl, but their conversation made it very clear that he’d been an asshole. Maybe without meaning to be, but it made him a little sick to realize that regardless of his intentions, he’d been so wrapped up in his head that the’d made Daryl feel like he wasn’t wanted, and _that_ was unacceptable. 

Rick started at Daryl’s tattoo of an ‘X’ over his collarbone and bent to kiss it. He’d never really thought about all of Daryl’s tattoos, but he was so wiry (Except for his arms of course... Rick’d never really thought he’d be the type of person to appreciate such defined muscles, but he found he was _really_ goddamn interested in seeing what Daryl would do with all that strength.) that they all helped to add to the landscape of Daryl’s body. Rick stroked over the ones he could see from this position, pleased when Daryl shivered. Rick brought his hands over Daryl’s chest, scraping his nails lightly in the hair there and over the peaks of his nipples, bending to lick at the left one as it hardened. He moved on when Daryl didn’t react much, other than to suck in a hard breath, working his way slowly down Daryl’s chest, alternating his touch so he was kissing, licking and gently scraping his teeth wherever he felt like, so that Daryl never knew where his mouth would end up. When he got to the waistband of Daryl’s underwear, he stopped, rubbing his cheek against Daryl’s abs and pausing. 

“You know you don’t gotta do nothin’ you don’t want to do.” Daryl’s voice after so long made Rick jump a little, resting his chin against Daryl’s stomach and looking up to meet his gaze. 

“I know that.” He did. Especially given their somewhat unconventional start, Rick knew that neither of them would ever be interested in anything that wasn’t adamantly consensual from all sides. “I just don’t want to suck at this.”

Daryl snorted a laugh and Rick rolled his eyes at the inadvertent pun. He bent and nuzzled his nose and cheek against the heat and thickness of Daryl’s erection, sucking as wet kiss into the fabric near the base. The material was stretched to something obscene, and just being this close gave Rick enough of a thrill that he pressed his lips against Daryl again, inhaling the musk of Daryl’s arousal. He meandered his small kisses up the length and onto the wet tip, sucking the precome from the material. Daryl made a strangled sort of sound and Rick felt a slight boost of confidence. He _had_ a dick after all; this couldn’t possibly be that difficult. He looped his fingers in the waistband of Daryl’s underwear and tugged a tiny bit, nudging Daryl’s cock with his nose until the head stuck out from behind the elastic. 

Daryl moaned when Rick traced the trickle of clear liquid with his tongue, sucking the head into his mouth. He arched when Rick tried sucking hard at first then rumbled something under his breath that Rick didn’t quite catch. Teasing was one thing, but Rick was impatient to see him, to touch and finally taste. 

He took advantage while Daryl was still up in the air to pull off his shorts. Daryl was definitely on board, flinging them off his ankle with a enthusiastic kick. Rick wrapped his fingers around the base and used his other hand to cup the other man’s balls, tugging a little and watching gooseflesh break out all over Daryl’s body. Rick bent, making a face when his own dick caught uncomfortably between his stomach and the mattress, lipping over the soft skin and taking one then the other into his mouth to give tentative little sucks, still a bit unsure as to what Daryl liked. 

Daryl cried out, pressing his feet into the mattress and tensing as Rick worked him over, one arm flung up over his face as though trying to muffle the sounds he was making. Rick licked up the base, the shaft and over the frenulum and around the head until he was sucking again, slowly working his mouth down over Daryl’s cock. Daryl didn’t seem to be breathing and Rick flicked his gaze back up to check on him, only to see Daryl propped up on his elbows and staring down at Rick with wide, unbelieving blue eyes. 

_Oh._

Rick remembered his visceral reaction not only at what Daryl had done to him, but how he looked doing it, and came off Daryl’s cock with a little _pop_ of sound. Holding Daryl’s gaze, and fervently hoping that he didn’t look like a complete moron, Rick went back down on him, using enough spit that he could move down smoothly. Daryl’s cock was thick enough that his lips stretched as Rick worked it into his mouth. He bobbed up and down a few times, not stupid enough to try deepthroating, but instead stroking the base at the same time, his curled fingers brushing against Daryl’s balls on each downstroke. 

“Fuck. _Rick_...” There was a flood of precome and Rick heard himself make a greedy sound as he concentrated on the thick heat in his mouth. 

“Rick. Rick! Stuh-- _Christ._ Stop. _Stop_!” 

Rick was so intent that it took him a moment before he realized that Daryl wasn’t moaning in reaction, but instead telling him to stop. Rick jerked back so fast he felt his teeth scrape against the underside of Daryl’s cock. Daryl groaned again, curling in on himself, fists clenched at his side. 

Rick was horrified and immediately started apologizing. “Shit, sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t realize that--”

“H- hush a second.” Daryl groped at his shoulder with his hand and squeezed, and Rick noticed then that Daryl was trembling on the bed, clearly trying not to come. 

Rick felt such relief that he sagged a little, moving up the mattress so that he was laying behind Daryl, carefully not touching. 

“Shit. Ya can’t be lookin’ like that or you’re gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack. I’m gonna be jerking off to the memory of that for the rest of my fuckin’ _life_ ” 

Rick tried, and failed, to not feel ridiculously proud of himself.

Daryl sat up and scrubbed his palms over his face, briskly trying to ignore his bobbing erection. It was flushed a dark red in the moonlight, and Rick had to look away. His own dick had softened a little when he’d thought he’d fucked up, but Rick still felt buzzed, like his skin was one size too small for the energy in his body. 

Eventually Daryl huffed a breath and leaned over to kiss him, licking filthily at Rick’s mouth. And that was-- that was definitely not a turn-off. 

Rick pulled away, and flopped over onto his stomach. He rested his chin in his folded arms and looked up at Daryl, who quirked an eyebrow. “I figured that given the amount of miscommunication between the two of us, I should make this real clear, and given the fact that I’m fresh out of flowcharts this is the most obvious I can be. I know we got all night, but I don’t necessarily want this to _take_ all night, ya know?” 

“Right. Well this ain’t gonna be rushed, either.” 

Rick bit his lip then figured if he couldn’t say it, then he had no business doing it. “This is uh... gonna hurt?” 

Daryl actually looked amused for just a second, before the smile drained away as he reached out and touched the scar on Rick’s shoulder. Rick had seen it, and it was a testament to how good his surgeons had been that he survived at all, given the size of the scar as evidenced by the pitted, scooped-out looking skin. He didn’t often think of the reason he survived the outbreak, but he knew Daryl would have some questions later. Rick appreciated that he didn’t bring them up now, because there were few things as unsexy as the discussion of comas. 

“Naw. It won’t. If it does then I’m not doin’ something right.” Daryl used his nails to punctuate by touching the sensitive scar tissue, sending shivers down Rick’s naked spine. “And none of that ‘taking one for the team’ bullshit you do neither. I ain’t tryin’ to treat you like your asshole is some delicate virgin flower or somethin’-” 

Rick laughed outright and Daryl smacked one ass cheek in retaliation. He wasn’t used to this easy, relaxed version of Daryl but knew that he could be extremely quickly. Rick spread his legs a little, tilting up his ass a tiny bit. Daryl definitely noticed, if by the way he cleared his throat was any indication, and Rick hid an inward smile. “Well. I don’t know much aside from the basics. I’ve seen the size of your dick though, and trust me when I say I’m willing to take your lead on this.”

Daryl’s gaze turned predatory. “Okay then. Here. Use the pillow to prop yourself up some. Yeah, that’s better. You comfortable? Your shoulder okay?” 

Rick arranged his cast so it was under the pillow, with his other arm folded on top, his cheek pillowed on the soft expanse. It smelled faintly of Daryl and Rick relaxed slightly. He was lying with his ass up and legs spread enough that Daryl had plenty of space behind him. Daryl must have realized that despite what he said, Rick was nervous as _hell_ , and began by just touching him, getting Rick used to being touched by his slightly rough, calloused grip. 

Rick felt himself being spread open and grimaced into the pillow, feeling like an idiot, but thanking god for the communal showers. He had a half second of trepidation before he felt the brush of Daryl’s hair on his asscheek, then the warm puff of Daryl’s breath on his hole and holy fucking shit, that was Daryl’s _tongue_. Rick made a helpless, garbled sound and froze, unsure if what he was feeling was good or not. It was _definitely_ new and very strange, but oh. Oh, “Ohh...” his voice grated out on a low moan, and Daryl went in again, flicking the tip of his tongue at the rim. 

His cock approved, and it didn’t take much more than a heartbeat for Rick’s brain to click over from ‘eh, what the _fuck_ ’ to ‘okay yes, more please.’ Rick’s whole body felt shivery, as Daryl worked him open with just the tip of his tongue, licking all the way up to his tailbone and down to his balls, teasing at them before moving back up. 

Rick only became aware that he was thrusting weakly into the pillow when Daryl pulled at his hips, pulling away from his ass and kissing back up and over the knobs of Rick’s spine. Rick cried out again when he felt Daryl’s hand snake around to wrap around his cock, as he worked his way up Rick’s sweaty back, licking and nipping and twisting his grip, jacking him slowly off until Rick felt like he was going to go out of his fucking mind. With Daryl at his back, he couldn’t move, couldn’t thrust like he wanted to. That strength he’d been so interested in before was working against him now. Rick loved the feeling of being somewhat helpless; of being able to just take what Daryl was doing to him. Daryl arranged himself so that his dick was between the cheeks of Rick’s ass, sliding in the spit as he mimicked thrusting. He had to let go of Rick’s cock to do it, gripping Rick’s hips firmly enough that the wings of his hipbones were covered with Daryl’s large hands. He didn’t try to push in, but the head of his cock caught on Rick’s rim and each time it did they both gasped at the sensation. As a tease, it was amazing. Rick’s body was lighting up in ways it hadn’t ever done, and Daryl hadn’t even really started. 

Rick turned back, stretching out his neck so that he could kiss Daryl, frustrated when Daryl wouldn’t kiss him like he wanted. He turned back and shifted so that he could have some leverage with his legs, thrusting back against the heat of Daryl’s body.

Daryl pulled away and Rick was cold for the few seconds that Daryl wasn’t pressed up against his back. He heard Daryl’s “Fuck!” when something crashed to the floor and brought his head back up, hoping that Daryl hadn’t just knocked over the candle. He saw Daryl bend to get the small tube, saw the size of the other man’s cock bobbing in the air. Rick’s eyes widened.

Daryl must have caught the look on his face because he stopped and turned back towards Rick, raising his eyebrows but clearly concerned. “Still okay?” 

Rick had to clear his throat twice before he could talk. “It’s all fun and games ‘til someone breaks out the lube.” 

Daryl managed to keep a straight face for all of three seconds before absolutely dissolving in laughter, moving back to the side of the bed where Rick knelt with his ass up in the air, waiting. “I remember thinking the same thing the first time I had someone fuck me that way.” He casually fisted his own cock, the red, wet head peeking through the circle of his fingers as he thrust lazily into his own hand. Rick’s eyes went to him like a magnet and Daryl slid his hand away with a smirk. 

“You like it this way too?” Rick was breathless, trying to heave in oxygen without sounding like a fish gasping for water. He pushed the sweaty tangle of his hair out of his eyes and tried to remember that his brain controlled his body, not Daryl Dixon’s mouth. 

“Oh, hell yeah. I like it just about every way.” He shrugged. “Whatever feels good.”

Rick couldn’t really shift how he wanted with his bad shoulder, but Daryl got the idea. 

“I’d kiss you but-” Daryl gestured at his lips and suddenly Rick understood why Daryl hadn’t kissed him. He risked the slight displeasure of his shoulder and the extreme displeasure of Daryl by heaving himself up to all fours and grabbing the back of Daryl’s neck to pull him forward. 

Daryl melted into the kiss and Rick let himself be as forceful as he wanted to be. He was desperately turned on, and Daryl was being so fucking careful with him, and it was so hot that Rick had to show him how he felt. Instead of the gentle exploration from earlier, this kiss held nothing back; a precursor to what their bodies would do in just a few minutes. 

Daryl broke away and pushed Rick none too gently back into position, shifting so that he was behind him. “All good?” Rick shivered when he felt Daryl stroke roughly over his ass with his palms. 

“Yeah.” Rick hardly recognized his own voice. “C’mon, Daryl, and fuck me.” 

Rick heard a muttered ‘goddamnit’ from behind him and Daryl’s touch disappeared for a few seconds only to come back slick and shocking against his asshole. 

“One finger.” 

Rick tried to relax, he knew that much, but it still felt weird as Daryl slid his first finger into him. He was open from Daryl’s tongue and nothing hurt- but his body tightened for a second in reaction before Rick could force himself to calm down. Daryl didn’t just poke at him, but moved the finger in and out, twisting and stroking Rick’s inner walls until Rick was gasping. Daryl took his finger out and added more lube, playing with the him now, teasing the the sensitive rim with little touches until Rick’s nerve endings didn’t know what to do with the intrusion and relaxed completely. As soon as he did, Daryl’s larger middle finger slipped in, replacing his first finger. Rick must have moved just right, or Daryl had a fucking magic touch or something, because Rick felt _something_ and cried out, freezing in place as his body tried to process the utterly new sensation. 

Daryl slid out his finger and spread Rick’s ass apart again so he could fuck him with his tongue, not teasing at all but just doing his best to open Rick up the filthiest way possible. Rick could feel Daryl’s jaw moving against him, feel the hair on his chin as it scraped against his balls and he was afraid he’d come right there. 

Before Rick could breathe, Daryl was back with two slippery fingers, moving so slowly that Rick kept trying to thrust himself back on them. Daryl’s grip on his hip kept Rick from moving again, and Rick started swearing. Now that he knew what his prostate felt like, he wanted it _again_ , and Daryl wasn’t cooperating, instead slowly working him open more and more until he could move the two fingers easily, still teasing Rick with the little catch as he curved them on the outer edge of the rim of Rick’s hole. Rick experimented with tightening and releasing and Daryl cursed again behind him. 

“Three, okay?”

Rick felt slick and wet and open, after three of Daryl’s thick fingers stretched him. Daryl’s hands slid in either the lube or the mingled sweat from their bodies as he braced his hand against Rick’s hip and fucked him with his fingers in earnest, occasionally tapping against Rick’s prostate with the tip of his middle finger. It was just enough that Rick knew he had given up any dignity long ago. He heard the punched-out, broken sounds he was making and did not care. He just wanted more. Rick could feel himself close to coming just from Daryl’s fingers and tried to warn him, but his voice wouldn’t work quite right. 

“Gonna... Gonna...”

Daryl moved _away_ which was the exact opposite of what Rick wanted and the sound he made might technically have been called a whimper, which Rick would be embarrassed about much later when he wasn’t so turned on that he could barely fucking _breathe_. Right now though he wanted to brace himself against the headboard, but wasn’t able to. Daryl left him again and Rick bit his lip as he waited. Daryl simply arranged Rick where he wanted him, pushing on the middle of his back and folding over the now ruined pillow under Rick’s pelvis so that his ass was up and ready. Rick heard Daryl slick himself up with a grunt, and held his breath, waiting. 

“God. Look at you. I just fuckin’.... _God_.” Daryl’s whisper sounded loud in the quiet room. Rick looked back at him over his bad shoulder. He saw that Daryl was just looking down at him, holding him open and the idea that Daryl was just staring at his stretched out hole was so fucking _hot_ that Rick felt his balls tighten up slightly, moving closer to his body in preparation of coming. 

“We doin’ this?” Rick tried to sound exasperated, but knew that he just sounded absolutely wrecked. 

“Yeah.” Daryl moved and Rick felt him guide the head of his cock to his entrance. 

The heat from Daryl’s body was so overwhelming that Rick tried to suck in a breath, only to choke on air. Daryl was much thicker than his three fingers and the stretch, even with as much preparation, and as careful as Daryl had been, still felt like almost too much. It didn’t hurt, but Rick’s body was telling him this was _wrong_ and he froze. 

“No, Rick. Try not to tense up.” 

He was going slow, but Rick couldn’t help it. This was all of the sudden very real, and it struck Rick then that they would never do this again; never have this first, intimate moment together. He felt Daryl start to move back and Rick panicked, pushing back suddenly and crying out when the full head stretched him just a little bit further, until he closed around the slightly less thick shaft of Daryl’s cock. Rick could feel the muscle fluttering a little, helplessly tightening and releasing around Daryl.

They both froze. 

“Just. Just gimmie a sec.” 

Daryl to his credit didn’t move. He waited, running his hand over Rick’s shoulders, down his spine, down to his lower back and back up. “Come on, darlin’. You can’t do that or you’ll hurt your-.” Daryl broke off with a sucked in gasp. “ _Breathe_. You gotta let me in.” 

Rick sucked in air, forcing himself to relax. Daryl bent over his back, whispering low in his ear. He wasn’t hurt, but his body seemed to think he was, flooding him with adrenaline. Eventually though, Rick became aware that Daryl was rocking just the slightest bit, and he was moving his own hips back in sync, picking up Daryl’s rhythm as though he had been doing it for years. 

Daryl bit at his shoulder, and it distracted him enough that he didn’t tense when Daryl slid deeper, still waiting for the pain that never came. The lube kept it from hurting, and the way his hole clenched around nothing when Daryl pulled almost all the way out was just as addictive as the smooth slide back in. Rick tried to push up for more traction and his arm, overworked all night with all the strenuous activity, collapsed, sending them both flat on the mattress, Rick taking all of Daryl’s weight at once. Daryl slipped out with the new position and they both groaned in protest. 

Daryl moved up behind him, but Rick was done with this. He quickly dried his sweaty hands on the quilt and sat up, flipping over the pillow and pushing Daryl back down onto his back, using the non-soaked side of the pillow to hold Daryl up. 

“What the hell are you--oh. Oh, Rick. _Fuck_.”

Rick straddled his lap and used his good arm to hold himself steady. Daryl’s nails dug into Rick’s hips, sliding over and down to cup his ass, spreading him open as Rick wrapped his fingers around Daryl’s cock, steadying it as he eased himself down over him, onto him. 

This stretched him a little differently and Rick stopped, rocking down in tiny, tiny increments until he was fully seated. He finally met Daryl’s gaze, only to see that Daryl lay with his back braced against the huge headboard, trembling as he fought against thrusting into Rick’s body. 

Rick leaned slowly forward-- and oh _that_ lit him up from the inside-- to bare his teeth in a fierce grin of triumph. Daryl just stared at him like he’d hung the moon, so Rick leaned that last little bit to kiss messily at Daryl’s lips again. 

Rick was kneeling kind of awkwardly, but he liked looking down at Daryl. Daryl finally unclenched his hands from Rick’s hips to flick at his nipples, then move his hands down Rick’s chest and waist to his cock. Rick had softened quite a bit with the weirdness both from having Daryl inside of him for the first time, and the slight over-stretched feeling that the new position gave him, so when Daryl wrapped both hands around Rick’s cock it startled him enough that Rick rocked forward just that last little bit that caused Daryl to thrust back in reaction. They both stared at each other for a heartbeat that was almost comical before they started moving together. Faster, and faster, and _oh god, he couldn’t do this._ It was too much.

Rick could feel that he was leaking precome onto Daryl’s hand and stomach and knew there was no fucking way he was going to last like this. Daryl twisted his grip and it was too much, too intense. Too perfect. Daryl’s hand was wet when Rick felt himself tense, felt the prickles of his skin as he fought not to come yet. Daryl’s fist was a blur on his cock and Rick couldn’t hold off anymore. Rick moved his hand to Daryl’s shoulder with a cry, his whole body shuddering through the intense orgasm. 

His brain went completely offline. Rick couldn’t have said if he saw colors, or said anything in particular. Everything in his existence was how Daryl was making him feel or _what_ Daryl was making him feel and Rick’s poor sex-stupid brain just couldn’t keep up. 

Dimly, he heard Daryl swearing through tightly clenched teeth, felt Daryl slam up into him so deeply that Rick’s whole body curled in on itself when Daryl’s cock slid against Rick’s over-stimulated prostate, then was aware only of Daryl’s heartbeat thundering under his cheek from where he collapsed against the other man’s chest. 

Daryl’s hands moved up over his back, soothing, like he couldn’t quite bear to stop touching him. Rick was almost asleep when Daryl eased him off his lap, and the feeling of Daryl’s come leaking out of his ass, which should have been highly disturbing, but mostly just made Rick feel like he was Daryl’s, was probably the only thing that woke him up enough to help. Otherwise he would have been dead weight. 

Daryl disappeared for a few minutes, and came back with a wet cloth. It was cold and Rick made a sleepy sound of protest when it slid up over his overheated skin, but he didn’t feel so grubby when it was all over, so he didn’t fight when Daryl pulled him under the quilt. 

They curled together like they did so long ago in Atlanta, legs tangling together, Rick pressing up against Daryl’s back. It was quiet in the room, but moving had woken Rick up just enough that he lay there, feeling his body’s aches and pains; the little twinges and shivers that made him feel like like he might be a little tender tomorrow. Rick smiled softly into Daryl’s shoulder, imagining the way Michonne would tease him, or Carl would roll his eyes and gag at the thought of his dad having sex if he knew. 

The box of condoms were still in his pocket and he hadn’t even thought about asking Daryl to use them. It seemed a little ridiculous, given everything. He trusted Daryl not to have anything, and lord knew Rick wouldn't be able to get pregnant without the goddamn hand of God himself. Rick snickered a little to himself and Daryl stirred, burrowing back the slight half of an inch into Rick’s body. 

Where he belonged.

Rick listened to the house settle around them. His left ankle itched. Someone called to someone else from outside, and the wind was loud enough that it sent a branch knocking against the windows, the spider-like fingers of the branches scraping with little squeaks against the glass. 

“I love you, Daryl,” Rick whispered, barely breathing the words. 

“Mn.” Daryl’s answer was barely a grunt of sound, but he linked his fingers with Rick’s in a surprisingly sweet gesture that did funny things to Rick’s heart.

When Michonne checked in on them several hours later, peeking in on silent feet and opening the door so stealthily that the hinges didn’t even squeak, they were still holding hands, curled into each other like two halves of the same whole. 

She made her way back to the living room where she and Carol shared an equally silent fist bump before locking the door behind them as they left Rick and Daryl where they most deserved to be.

Together.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**(I postedChapter 23 a few minutes ago; be sure not to miss it!)**

 

* * *

 

The thing about being a kid was that people tended to ignore you. If you were smart enough to use that and stay in the background, then you could learn lots of things.

Carl was plenty smart enough.

Boy, did he love that people tended to ignore him. They would have entire conversations in front of him and Clem.

Them.

The grown-ups.

No, not _his_ family; none of them treated him like a kid. Well, Michonne teased the shit out of him, but that was just how they were. During the long trip here Michonne had instilled in him how important it was to pay attention, though and Carl had learned his lessons well.

Something as small as a dead frog could mean that the local water was contaminated. A sudden silence in the woods meant that there was a predator more dangerous than humans around, ready to jump out at them at any moment. Daryl stumbled around like the dead when he thought Carl’s dad was gone forever, but it was easy enough to see his wet eyes and the bloody marks on his palms from his fingernails if you looked long enough.

Carl always looked. Losing his dad and Clem was bad enough. He wasn’t gonna lose Daryl too.

And he didn’t.

Most of the stuff he picked up was stupid. There was a group of survivors that came in with Abraham that had two men and a woman in it. People were nice to the woman’s face, but tended to snicker behind her back. Caril didn’t quite get why, but he was pretty sure it had to do with sex, so he made sure not to ask.

There was a younger guy- around age twenty or so- that liked to hoard food. The people in charge knew about it and would clean him out roughly once a week. He was on probation and would be asked to leave if he did it again.

Then there was the stuff that Carl couldn’t explain.

The first sign was one day when he would walk the few blocks to Medical to pick up Clem. Carl waited impatiently, hands in his pockets as he first heard the whispered conversation, carrying back to him through the nearly silent corridor.

Something about babies. Not cute babies, like Judith, but making them. Chick stuff, like periods an’ shit. Gross. Some lady was pregnant, but she didn’t want to be. Someone named Lucille. Well, Carl couldn’t be sure, but he _thought_ that was what the man said.

He’d seen the man around town. A long time ago, his dad had taken Carl to the car place to buy his mom a new minivan. This guy (Carl didn’t know his name really. Davidson? Danielson? Something like that.) reminded Carl of the salesman who had sold them ‘that piece of shit with the bum alternator.’ Carl had remained deeply suspicious of car dealerships since then. At the ASZ, Carl had glared at the guy when he had called Carl ‘son,’ and tried to ignore the way the older dude looked at Sasha and Rosita, like they were a cold glass of water on a really hot day. It made him uncomfortable in the way it usually did when Carl thought too hard about either one of the women, so he tried really hard not to think about it.

The second sign was a few weeks later, when Carl saw a huge commotion at the gates. The sickness, plague, whatever it was that had taken out most of the ASZ (Carl couldn’t help the snort that was second nature by now and _never_ not funny.) so there weren’t really a lot of worries about food or stuff to go around. People were quiet, mourning their dead, but they were always mourning their dead.

Their living too, but that was just how it was now.

There was a fight between an older man and one of the solder-types that were usually on guard duty. A girl about Carl’s age stood off to the side, crying. She clutched a backpack to her chest and seemed to be trying to get the older man to calm down.

“No! It just ain’t right! We’re people! Americans! You can’t _do_ that!”

Well whatever they could or couldn’t do was obviously no longer in dispute, especially once the solder-type shot the older guy in the head, almost without blinking. The girl froze, then collapsed on top of recently deceased, crying for her uncle to “Please, _Please_ wake up.” She was sorry and she didn’t mean it.

Carl went on to the bookstore, seemingly ignoring the drama in front of him. It wasn’t his business. But... there was nothin’ stopping him from remembering this. Carl didn’t much care for some of the people here, but his dad wasn’t all the way better. If they decided to move on, then they would only do so when Carl’s dad was at 100%. _He_ wasn’t gonna be the reason they left. Especially not after Daryl and his dad finally got together. Neither of them were half as subtle as Judith with a poopy diaper, and just as disgusting. More so even because that was his _dad_ , and oh God did that mean that he and Daryl--

Nope. Not thinking about that.

Still, it was weird, and weird stuff meant a close watch on them. So Carl would wait, and make sure he saw. When he had enough that he could charm his dad out of the grounding he’d probably receive for sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong, Carl would tell him.

But for now... he’d wait.

Perfectly content to be ignored.

And listen.

 

**THE END.**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /me *falls over*.
> 
>  
> 
> Holy crap guys. 104146 words of what had started off as a really simple, pervy prompt. I don't know what happened, but I have two other one-shots in this 'verse planned. I have to finish a Trek project first or I'll be murdered in my sleep, so be sure to either subscribe to me or to [this series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/207212) so you won't miss anything. I hope to begin posting at the end of February. Thank you, thank you, **_thank you_ ** for putting up with my ridiculousness, and the author's notes that were longer than the damn story. I had a lot of fun with this one! <3.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, a huge thank you to Jen for telling me I could do this (this isn't even her fandom and she's supporting me- how awesome is _that_?!) And to **FoxyK** for the ninja beta. Mistakes are mine, because sometimes I fiddle once she gets it back to me.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](http://1lostone.tumblr.com/)!


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